A Way We Go
by wbss21
Summary: Thor 2 AU, possible spoilers. Thor's little brother is psychotic. Jane knows that. And she can't begin to fathom why it is he's helping them to fight back against the Dark Elves. Or why he seems concerned for her well being at all.
1. Chapter 1

**A Way We Go**

**Chapter 1:**

"You should have come to me sooner."

The words are said with vicious anger, voice trembling uncharacteristically with barely suppressed emotion.

His back is turned towards him, slim shoulders hunched in shaking tension, arms crossed over a thin, thin chest and head slightly bowed.

He sees the curtain of black hair drape loose, and for some reason it is that, above the rest of his brother's haggard and emaciated appearance, which reminds the thunderer of just how far Loki has fallen.

Loki, who had always kept his own personage immaculately ordered and clean. Always ridiculously well groomed, putting the elder Prince to shame in such matters of personal care.

He now stands as a homeless man, unruly and disheveled.

He is too thin.

He has always been too thin.

But it has grown worse this past year, for the younger Prince's refusal to eat at all, spare the bare minimum to keep from dying and suffering the humiliation of being force fed.

The sharpness of his features has increased tenfold, it seems, with the gaunt, sunken in appearances of his cheeks and eyes.

And what tattered clothes he wears hang on him in loose swaths of fabric, barely staying in place.

The faded green, knitted tunic slips dangerously to one side, threatening any moment to slide completely from Loki's left shoulder and expose the pale skin to open air.

His pants sag almost indecently low on skeletal thin hips.

And Thor wonders how it is the man he once considered his best friend and brother is going to help them at all, given how weak he now appears.

He looks so, so weak.

Thor stares a long moment at the trembling form before him, through the barrier of pure, magical energy.

He knows it is this brightly lit cage which is, in part, to blame for Loki's state.

It is suppressing his magic. And Loki's magic _is_ his life.

Without it, he withers.

… Without it, he dies.

Thor had told himself at the beginning of this imprisonment, he wouldn't allow himself to feel sorry for his brother.

That he deserved this, and more, for what he had done.

Looking at him now, Thor finds it difficult to hold to that commitment.

"I could not trust you." The god of Thunder at last deigns to speak, stepping closer to the barrier.

He can feel the pull of it against his own magic, a rush of lightheadedness taking sudden hold, and he feels slightly sick.

… To be constantly surrounded, constantly _immersed_ in it…

"… Could not trust me." He hears Loki whisper in echo, and watches as the younger god's hand curls to fist, pressed against the wall he faces.

Watches as he leans his forehead to it, the trembling in his frame growing more pronounced.

"… Could not trust me," he repeats. "and now our _Mother_…"

He freezes, a harsh shudder working through him before abruptly he pulls rigidly stiff.

Thor hears a shaking breath escape past his lips, and he frowns.

He had not expected this.

… Had not expected anything but cruel amusement and mocking jibes.

He swears now Loki seems on the verge of tears.

"The _Queen_ is dead." At last the trickster goes on, voice more steady, yet still wavering, as though he's gotten hold of himself only just through great effort. "You should have come to me _sooner_!"

Thor swallows thickly, shame and regret lifting like bile into his throat, and he presses it down, telling himself it is only a trick, only Loki's hideous talent of inciting and planting thought and emotion in his victims.

"We thought we could defend the palace, at least." He tries to defend. "We thought we could beat them back."

And finally it is Loki turns, more swiftly and precisely than Thor thinks should be possible for someone so physically frail.

And there is pure rage in his red rimmed and glassy eyes.

And Thor realizes with a shock the younger Prince _is _holding back tears.

Loki, who has in the past year become nothing but hard lines and poisonous barbs, and brutally cutting insults.

Loki, whom everyone believed had become nothing but purely mad and black of heart, incapable of any, true emotion or sentiment.

Incapable of love.

Everyone but Frigga.

Their Mother.

Their Queen.

She alone had come to him every day in this place. Come to see him.

And always would she return, even as he sent her away with vicious words and vows of disownment, denials of their having left any relationship at all.

She would return, and say to him he was loved, again and again, until even Loki's hardened outside had begun to soften.

And in these last weeks, before the invasion, Frigga had been so happy, so overcome with joy in reporting that her son had begun to open up to her.

Had begun to talk, and that more than just hate filled vitriol had emitted these last days from his lips.

And it was in the last night, the day before last, Frigga had come from her visit in tears, and both Thor and Odin had asked with angered dismay what Loki had done to her, and she had shaken her head and said…

"Nothing. It is not anything he did to me. It is what they did to him. Oh, my boy… my sweet boy…"

And then she had broken into inconsolably sobs and excused herself to her chambers.

What Loki had told her, only the two of them knew.

And now…

Only Loki knows.

Only Loki…

Whose face now twists in fury as he steps with rapid determination towards the barrier, and for a moment, Thor is sure he will attack it.

But he pulls short, inches away, glaring at the elder Prince, hands clenched at his sides in fists.

"Beat them back?" He asks with incredulous disgust. "They fight near solely though means of magic, and you, what, believed yourself capable of countering such skilled sorcery? You and your ilk know _nothing _of magic, Thor. There is not one among the mighty warriors of Asgard who may call themselves versed in the dark arts, save the All-Father and myself. And with Odin having fallen so _conveniently_ into the Odinsleep, there is but me! And you come to me only _now_?! Only after it is too late!?"

Thor steps away, taken aback by the verbal assault being laid at his feet, at how cruelly Loki finds and picks at his guilt.

"You have given no indication of your willingness to help defend your home." He counters, almost desperately. "I did not believe you would."

Loki's face falls, expression going blank.

For a long moment, he stares back at the older god, unmoving.

Until at last, he turns silently away, moving sluggishly and slow across the cell, his back once more to him.

"… And once more your arrogant assumptions lead to us our dooms." He mutters, too softly for Thor to hear.

Thor watches him for a time, uncertain of what will happen now.

If Loki will listen, if he will lend his aid to their cause.

He sees his brother lift a hand, wiping it across his eyes, and he knows he wipes tears from them.

The thunderer feels his stomach clench in nauseating regret.

"… There is another reason brother, why I did not come to you." He says softly, eyes drifting to the stone beneath his feet.

"Claim not your familial ties to me, Odinson." Loki says back, voice low and hoarse. "I am not your brother."

It is a denial he has since grown accustomed to. A repeated refrain from Loki's thin lips and each time delivered in his most elegant and even tones.

If ever Thor thought he might change Loki's heart in this before, that hope has now dwindled and burnt itself nearly out.

He does not think Loki will forgive him now.

Not for this.

Not for their Mother…

He ignores the rejection and continues on.

"He who leads them Loki." He says. "He who led the invasion and slew our Mother in cowardice, cold blood…"

At this, Loki straightens, body stiff and taught as the string of a bow. Anticipating release…

Thor hesitates a brief moment, wretched and cruel memories crowding his mind, torturing his already anguished soul.

"It was Malekith." He says, and then falls silent.

Loki says nothing for long, drawn seconds.

But Thor can see the tremble return to his limbs.

Can see the strain of keeping himself still, of keeping himself planted.

The tremor builds, washing through him like some fragmented wave, and Thor forces himself to keep his eyes on his brother, to keep watch.

Until finally he hears Loki choke out, voice harsh and ragged and rough.

"The Accursed?" He asks, and it sounds not like him.

Thor nods, arms folding.

"Yes." He confirms.

And there it snaps, a roar the likes of which Thor has not heard from the mischief god in many a century, tearing from his throat.

A howl of such overwhelming rage and dismay, it withers the heart and leaves him feeling breathless and trepid.

Loki lashes out, slamming his fists against the white stone wall before him, hard enough that cracks fissure through it and race upwards, towards the ceiling.

He pays the price, the wards taking affect and ripping with renewed vigor at his magic, no longer simply pressing it down, but stealing it from him and siphoning it off.

Loki gasps, white hot agony coursing through his insides and overwhelming him in moments.

He crashes to his knees, hands raising of their own volition and gripping the sides of his skull with enough force to turn the knuckles purely white, and he gasps again, as though he cannot breathe.

"Loki!" Thor steps forward, unable to help his concern.

But Loki gives no reply, sat holding his head and shaking violently for long, endless moments, before at last, whatever pain he is experiencing seems to dissipate, and he slumps forward, entire body seeming to deflate as he sags against the same wall, slight tremors still working their way through him, breath heavy and uneven and quick.

Thor feels himself overcome with the desire to go to him, to hold him and comfort and chase all his hurt away.

He tries to remind himself Loki brought this upon himself.

He tries to use reason.

But it is hard.

Seeing his little brother, suffering and in so much pain.

And with the name of he who drew the outburst, hung between them like a wraith, reminding Thor of his own miserable failure to protect the one being he had sworn on his own life to always keep safe.

Malekith, the Accursed.

The Dark Elf.

The half-breed abomination who had, so many centuries past, captured and tortured his little brother in ways Loki had refused ever to speak of.

Only the condition in which they had finally found the second Prince to tell them of what he had suffered.

And Thor still feels himself grow sick with the memories.

Loki, beaten near to death, pale skin invisible beneath the thick swaths of blood, hair sheared near completely from his scalp and face broken and swollen beyond recognition.

And worst of all, what had been unmistakable signs of his utter degradation and humiliation. The thievery of his dignity.

And it had been _Thor's _fault. _His_.

For letting the elves separate him from his brother, even as he hears the echo of Loki's voice, calling out to him to stay close and guard his back.

For seeing too _late _the focus shift almost entirely onto the second Prince, the attacks turning and centering on him solely.

For it was Loki alone who had been keeping their forces at bay. Who could counter their spells and render their own magic useless. For none among them, though they prided themselves on their mastery of seidr, could match the trickster god in pure talent and ability.

And they had seen, to make any success of their campaign, they would need to remove Loki from the battle.

And so they had swarmed him, redoubling their efforts to split he and Thor apart, to put space between them and rob him of the thunder god's protection.

And Thor had _let_ it happen. So consumed in his own lust for battle and blood.

He remembers hearing Loki cry out for him, to come to his aid, and not listening, not heeding the plea, too absorbed in crushing skills and shattering limbs with his hammer.

He had turned only in time to see Loki disappear beneath a crush of bodies, and then an explosion of white, blinding energy as he was whisked away from the field of battle, to where, Thor still knew not.

He remembers having searched frantically in the melee and chaos for his brother, and afterwards, after what remained of the Dark Elf forces had been beaten back, through the piles of dead bodies which lay strewn across the blood soaked field.

He hadn't found him.

For three months.

He hadn't found his brother.

And never did.

Loki had found his way back to _them_, somehow. He had escaped, and oh Gods, Thor still recalls, when he had returned, his little brother had barely clung to life. Starved and ravaged and hardly even coherent. He had stumbled into the city, nearly naked save a crudely fashioned skirt, braided from straw, clearly by Loki's own hand, bare feet shredded and bleeding from having walked Norns knew only how many miles over unforgiving mountain terrains and fields of ice, littered with shards as sharp as steel.

And now, when Thor had seen who led the invasion upon Asgard's gates, when he had seen the split scheme of color which played upon the Elf's cruel face, he had thought "no", and there had been the horrifying fear replaying itself, over and over, in his mind.

What if…

What if he found Loki.

What if he captured him again.

What if, what if, what if…

And he had thought then only to keep his brother from this battle.

He had pushed the possibility from his mind.

And for that, they had all paid the price.

"I will destroy him."

He's pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Loki's voice.

And at once, the younger god is straightening, pushing himself to his feet and standing.

"I will end his very existence." He goes on, and it sounds more as though he is talking to himself than Thor. "I will…"

"Loki," Thor starts, frowning. "I had feared, after what he had done to you…"

"It matters not what he did to me!" Loki snaps, turning finally and pinning the crown Prince with a withering gaze.

Thor hesitates.

"He is more powerful now Loki." He warns cautiously. "Much more."

And Loki sneers with absolute disregard.

"I was more powerful than him then, and I am with certainty more powerful than him now! I will _end_ him!" He repeats, and there is such conviction in his voice, it sends an unwelcome chill down Thor spine.

A moment passes, the two brother's staring back at one another intently, Loki anxious and unstill. Thor contemplating and concerned.

"… If you aid us," he begins at last. "if you help Asgard to defeat this enemy, you will be pardoned. Your imprisonment lifted and your freedom returned to you."

"I have no need of your empty promises and placating enticements Thor. I care not whether you permit me to remain outside these four walls. I ask only you let me out now so that I might take my revenge. Do what you will with me afterward, but allow me this one need. I will kill that half-breed bastard and his army with him, this I swear."

Thor knew it was foolish on his part to hope that Loki might come to their aid for the sake of the Realm.

Loki had grown well beyond caring anymore how the Aesir might regard him, and he knew his brother remained here only by force. He felt no attachment, no kinship any longer with this place or its people.

Still, he had hoped, and it hurt no less to see those hopes dashed.

It was revenge his brother now sought.

No sense of duty.

Whether revenge for himself, or their Mother, or both, it mattered little.

Loki would have it.

Thor gave a nod, stepping forward to undo the barrier which kept his brother trapped and restrained.

"I will escort you to your rooms, where you may prepare." He says, pressing his palm flat against the device, situated to the stone wall bordering the energy. He feels the current of magic, reading his print, identifying him.

With a shimmer, the magical barrier dissolves, and Thor steps forward, holding out a hand for Loki to take.

Loki ignores it, tilting his head down the hall, indicating Thor to lead the way.

Thor's hand falls limp to his side.

Standing this close to his brother now, his wasted form seems only more obvious.

He looks so _small_, and Thor feels his heart drop as he stares down at the younger god.

How had he ever come to this?

Proud Loki. Strong Loki. Brilliant, shining, excellent boy, filled to brimming with life and energy and passion.

"If you try anything…" Thor begins to warn.

And Loki shakes his head.

"I know already." He says. "Only it is you who fails to comprehend the hollow nature of a threat if fulfilled I would welcome with open arms."

Thor says nothing to that.

Only gazing into the unflinching eyes of his brother, a sense of inconsolable dread working its way through the pit of his stomach, even as he at last turns and leads them from the place.

/

**AN: Hey guys! So, obviously, this story follows some imagined path of how Thor 2 might go, just based on rumors of what I've heard and all that jazz. Jane Foster will be showing up next chapter, and what her relationship with Loki entails remains to be seen. It could develop into friendship, it could develop into romance. I can't say for certain right now. But they'll be plenty of interaction betwixt them.**

**Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed this start!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Loki has disappeared into the wash room of his chambers.

He had strode through his old place of sanctuary without so much as a look around, or a moments hesitation. No frozen moments of remembrance or nostalgia tinged contemplation.

Thor sits, waiting, in one of the many sitting chairs situated about the main wing of what had been his brother's study, looking about with hands clasped loose between his knees.

He seems not so coldly determined as his younger brother, not so able to block the ghosts of the past.

Memories flood unwanted through his mind.

So many times, so many moments he found himself bursting through those double, gold gilded doors, calling out loudly Loki's name, only to find his brother seated in one of these very chairs, book laid open upon his knee, engrossed and seemingly oblivious to the elder god's presence.

And always, he had looked so content. So relaxed and calm and without burden.

Thor recalls those were perhaps the only times, when the tension and worry which seemed always to plague his little brother and follow him as a specter had fled his being, and left him momentarily free.

When he had his books and texts and scholarly pursuits.

Thor feels his clasped hands tighten together near painfully, as he thinks how he had always so recklessly and thoughtlessly disturbed those quieted moments for Loki.

How then he had thought nothing of Loki's upset, laughing at how easily flustered he would grow, slapping him hard across the back and making merry of his reddening face and stiffened posture.

How he simply had shrugged and dismissed it offhand when Loki had gradually begun to storm out of his presence and he would not see the younger Prince again for the remainder of the day.

He had never inquired after where it was Loki would go those times.

Never asked if he was alright…

His eyes flit to the well worn work desk, pressed up against the Eastern most wall, just below an open window, where Thor knows Loki would so often sit and write and solve his magical equations while watching the sun peak its first rays of light over the golden fields of Asgard.

There are books piled high on that desk still, gathering dust, untouched since Loki's fall.

Stacks of journals lie too, filled Thor knows with his brother's notes and musings. There is an entire shelf filled with the journals, along the opposite wall, dozens upon dozens of them, dating as far back as to when Loki was but a child.

Thor remembers he and his friends often laughing at Loki, making jest of what they called a feminine and sentimental practice.

What man of the Aesir need write down his thoughts and feelings, they had asked, chortling and scoffing, but one not possessed of the strength required to control such useless burdens?

A kind of queasiness works its way up Thor's throat as he recalls one time, when he and the Warriors Three and Sif had invaded this very study, finding Loki seated at that old desk, writing in one of the journals.

Loki had moved immediately to close the thing up and turned to face them, agitated scowl already in place along his features, when Fandral had dipped in and snatched the book up, dancing away swiftly out of reach, even as Loki had jumped up and attempted to take the thing back, angered curses slipping from his lips as he chased the young man about the room. Curses which soon turned to panicked pleas to give it back as Fandral had opened it up and begun to read its contents aloud.

Their amusement and laughter hadn't lasted long, as Fandral went on, and the words which spilled from his tongue spoke only of self-deprecation and thoughts of inadequacy, spoke a hopeless desire to be more, to be _better_, and suffocating loneliness.

Fandral's voice had trailed off, the room having fallen into uneasy silence, before, nervously, he had laughed, looking up, beginning to say it had only been a jest, intending to toss the book back to the younger Prince.

But as all their eyes had turned to him, shamed, they had seen Loki standing stiff and shaking, face twisted in fury as tears slipped ceaseless down his pale cheeks.

He had taken the journal back from Fandral's offered hand and brought it against his chest, holding it protectively before turning, still trembling and telling them in a rough voice thick with tears to leave.

Thor remembers having tried to apologize, trying to reach out and make things alright, and he remembers the moment his fingers had brushed the younger god's shoulder, Loki had flinched violently away and screamed "go", and they all had shuffled out of the rooms without another word or argument.

It had been after that day, Thor thinks, when Loki's already withdrawn behavior had intensified, and he began to see less and less of the brother he had once been so close to.

He remembers asking Loki about what had been written in that journal, weeks later, saying he couldn't possibly have meant any of it, couldn't have believed it, surely, and Loki had simply closed off, refusing to speak a word.

Later, when in his determination to get to the bottom of it, Thor had snuck into his brother's study and tried reading the journal himself, and he had found it warded against prying eyes, the words coming out an unintelligible jumble to anyone other than the writer.

That, Thor thinks, is the day he began to lose Loki's trust.

There's an opened journal lying on the desk now, half of one page filled with his brother's elegant script. Thor realizes with a jolt, in the months after Loki's fall, what they all had thought was Loki's death, he hadn't ever bothered to try again at reading the second Prince's private thoughts.

Thor thinks it was out of fear, a refusal to seek confirmation that the young boy he'd grown up with was gone. Because if Loki truly was dead, then the wards would have been lifted, his magic done away with.

He's broken from his morbid thoughts by the sound of knocking, and he looks up, towards the closed double doors.

"Yes." He calls, and a moment later, those doors come open, revealing one of the several guards stationed outside.

"My Lord Prince," he begins, bowing his head in respect.

Thor nods in returns, and waits.

"The Lady Jane Foster requests that she be allowed to join you while you await the prisoner's preparations."

Thor feels himself bristle slightly at the term assigned his brother. An annoyance he knows he should not feel. Because that's what Loki was, wasn't it? A prisoner. He wouldn't be allowed free reign, or any, real privacy even.

Even now, Thor stayed near, and again, he thought of the many guards, situated outside this room, and the main foyer, ready to take action should the man they once considered their Prince try anything unapproved.

His thoughts shift to Jane.

And he feels hesitation.

She hasn't yet met Loki.

He hadn't even thought it a possibility when he'd first brought her here, those few days ago.

There had been no need, and Thor hadn't been prepared or willing to expose Jane to his brother's caustic and cruel wit.

Nor had he forgotten Loki's threat against her, while they had been fighting on the Bifrost, what seemed a lifetime ago now.

But he knows now that a meeting between the two is inevitable.

Jane is coming with them.

He isn't going to leave her here, in Asgard. Not with her defenses so crippled and the threat of another attack looming.

And so he casts his hesitation aside, and nods to the guard, assenting to her presence.

The guard nods back.

"My Lord." He bows, disappearing.

A few, short seconds later, he reappears, and Jane is trailing close behind him, already looking anxiously over the broad man's shoulder, eyes searching with unmistakable desperation for _him_.

Thor stands, the first, real smile he's been able to manage all day gracing his lips.

And Jane doesn't even wait for approval, she rushes past the guard, towards him, and he opens his arms to receive her, her tiny frame and seemingly nonexistent weight barely registering as it slams into him.

He wraps thickly muscled arms about her torso, holding her tight as she sags against him, pressing her face into his chest.

He doesn't miss the shutter which works through her, nor the strangled sob which pushes past her lips.

"Oh God, Thor…" she cries. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

The smile is fast erased from the thunderer's lips as he bends, leaning his cheek along her crown.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Jane." He whispers, and she shakes her head.

"No… No, I was th-there." She weeps. "I should have done something. I should have…"

"There is nothing you could have done Jane." Thor says. "Nothing. You cannot blame yourself."

And it is true.

What hope had she, a mere mortal, of battling back against a throng of half a dozen Dark Elves, led by Malekith himself, one of the most powerful sorcerers in all the Nine Realms?

None. There had be no hope.

As even their Queen, his Mother, a goddess of great power herself, had fallen before the force.

Thor knows only the dumb luck and fortune of them having spared Jane their attention, passing her by and moving on to other sections of the palace without so much as a glance back.

"What… what are we going to do Thor?" She asks, face still hidden against him, small hands curled and clinging in to the fabric of his cloak. "What are we going to do?"

Thor absently rubs his wide palm down her back, and he is reminded harshly of her frailty.

Of how easily she may be injured… or killed.

So much weaker than the Aesir, are the mortals.

"We must travel to Svartalfheim," he begins softly. "to the dark world."

"The dark world?" Jane at last pulls back, blinking up at him with tear filled eyes, face red and broken with grief.

Thor nods grimly.

"We must lead the battle away from Asgard's gates, or the entire city may fall. We must protect the All-Father. He is helpless in his current rest. Jane, I am sorry you have been pulled into this. It was never my intention."

She shakes her head.

"I know Thor. I… I know." She says, looking away finally, eyes scanning over the room they're in.

"How do we get there?" She asks absently. "The Bifrost?"

Thor shakes his head, mouth opening to answer.

"No."

He is stopped short at the sound of his brother's voice, and both he and Jane turn, surprised as their eyes fall upon the tall, razor thin form of the man standing within the threshold of an entryway opposite.

Loki stands, staring back at them.

He is shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting soft leather breeches, his feet bare and a towel in his hands.

His hair has been very clearly washed and now slicked back off his face, behind his ears, still long and well past his shoulders.

Thor can't help his gaze roaming over his brother's state.

He is _so _thin.

Painfully so.

It had been obvious, given the way he had practically been swimming in his clothes all these past months. But actually seeing the bared condition of his body, Thor feels less than well.

Loki had always been incredibly thin.

But there had always been a subtle power and strength to his long, sinewy frame. Corded muscle had defined his limbs and torso, giving him a kind of weightless grace few others possessed. Only Sif, truly, had ever been able to match Loki in agility and light footed swiftness.

Few had ever given the second Prince acknowledgment for his strength in battle. But Thor knew it well, and, he realizes suddenly, with dismay, he has missed it so.

The reassurance that his more than capable brother would be at his back, always, guarding him against approaching enemies.

Loki seems a shade of his former self now.

Wasted away to practically nothing.

He has little left of that muscle left. And if there had ever been any softness to any part of his brother's form before, it is entirely absent now.

He is all sharp angles and jutting bones.

Thor can count each of his ribs individually, pressing prominent against tightly pulled, sickly colored skin, his stomach no longer simply flat and defined, but now concave and sunken, and his chest thin. The curve of his collarbone stands out grotesquely beneath narrow, bony shoulders. And as Loki finally moves, and turns towards a trunk, situated along the Western wall, he can count nearly every, single vertebrae which makes up the entirety of his spinal column.

He finds he cannot stand it, and he looks away suddenly, eyes casting down, own frame tensing in unspoken anguish.

"You must be Thor's mortal." Loki goes on quietly as he bends, opening up the trunk's top, beginning to rifle through its contents.

Thor sees Jane is staring intently at his brother too, eyes wide and with no small amount of shock. Whether at Loki's emaciated state, or simply seeing the man who had tried to subjugate her Realm, he does not know.

Loki seems to light upon the article he was searching for, giving a small sound of approval before straightening, holding the folded, black tunic in his hands and turning.

Closing the lid of the trunk, he drops the half wet towel upon it and begins towards them, and it is odd, Thor thinks, how he still moves with so much poise and dignity, even while looking so close to death.

"You will forgive the indecent state of my undress, I hope." He is saying.

Thor feels Jane press back against him, frame winding anxiously as Loki comes nearer. She is afraid, and Thor can hardly blame her.

Loki looks like some feral, wild beast, ready to strike and devour his prey.

And yet his manner and words are only perfectly cordial.

"I was not expecting the company of a lady." He goes on, keeping his eyes on her. "Had I known of your arrival, I would have requested my clothing be brought to me, or awaited your departure."

Jane stares, speechless a long moment, before finally she breathes out, an inarticulate "Oh.".

Loki gives no reaction to that, simply pulling the tunic over his head, finally hiding away the unpleasant sight of his wasted body.

Taking several, long seconds to straighten and smooth it out, tucking the long hem of it carefully into the band of his breeches, he then moves across the room, disappearing from the study, into his sleeping chambers.

He reappears a moment later, tying his long hair back into an intricately woven band, forming a straight pony tale which reaches halfway down his back.

"The path to Svartalfheim is treacherous." He continues, as though the conversation had never stopped. "It can be reached only through the hidden ways and by foot over unforgiving and harsh mountain terrain and fields of pure ice, home to many an untamed beast and bands of marauding nomads."

Finishing tying his hair back, he turns, looking to Jane with a gaze so piercing, she finds herself having to look away.

He is nothing like Thor, it seems.

Thor is all good intentions and kindness in open expression.

If there is any kindness in his younger brother, Jane can see none of it in his sharp, cutting eyes.

"You should not be coming with us." He finishes, eyes unmoving on her.

Jane stands stiff and mute, hands still buried in Thor's cloak, and she finds herself unable to look at the imposing form of the mischief god, unable to respond.

Thor makes it so she doesn't have to.

"She is coming with us Loki." He says, voice firm and unwavering and heavy with unsaid threat.

Loki's eyes flash to the Crown Prince, face impassive.

"She is mortal Thor." He replies, with the air of one long suffering the stupidity of others.

It sounds bizarre to Jane's ears, to hear _anyone_ speak to Thor with something less than total respect. To speak to him even with mocking disregard and contempt.

"She could very easily be killed." He goes on, as though explaining to a small child.

Instinctually, Thor pushes Jane half behind him, hand heavy on her shoulder.

"I will not leave her here unguarded Loki." He says in return. "If there were an attack, I would be unable to protect her."

"And you think bringing her into the heart of the battle will better serve that ability?" Loki nearly scoffs, features now worked to incredulousness. "I guarantee you Odinson, the fight will be where we take it. The Dark Elves have no use of some lowly mortal girl on her own, but if they see her as a weapon to be used against you, they will not hesitate to utilize her thus. She will only slow us down and impede our success, and if not taken advantage of to compromise our position, likely then she will merely be killed as collateral. Leave her here. She will be safer."

It is at once, Thor's temper flares, and he pushes Jane fully behind him now, stepping towards his brother threateningly.

Loki doesn't move, standing straight and seemingly utterly unintimidated, even as Thor moves within inches of him, glaring down at him with his superior height, and the difference in size between them in glaringly obvious.

Thor looks as though he could crush the younger god with a single swipe, and yet, Jane feels a sickening dread building in her stomach that the appearance is a falsity. That Loki is so much more dangerous than he outwardly seems.

"What is this concern brother?" Thor asks, suspicion clear in his voice. "You care nothing for anyone but yourself, and yet you waste that silver tongue of yours making supplications on her behalf. You would expect me to believe your concern sincere?"

Loki scowls, matching Thor glare for glare, vivid green eyes every bit as unyielding as the thunder god's blue.

"I expect nothing but ignorance and stupidity from you, Thor." He answers calmly. "I only plead the girl's case in the realization that, when she is killed, and she _will_ be Thor, it will be I who shoulders the blame, as I always have in the wake of your failures."

Thor takes another step forward, cutting the space between them to practically nothing, and still, Loki does not move.

"If you think to threaten her…" he begins, and Loki cuts him off with a short, sharp bark of laughter which sends a chill down Jane's spine.

"I make no promises should she in any way hinder my progre…"

The words never finish, cut abruptly by a loud crack. The sound of the back of Thor's hand, raking across Loki's mouth, the force of it hard enough to knock the smaller god clean off his feet, dumping him on his bottom.

Jane gasps in shock, hands flying to her mouth, even as Loki's own lift and cover his.

She sees bright red blood, slipping slow and thick between long, pale fingers.

Thor stands over him, hands clenched to fists at his side, breathing heavily in anger.

After a moment, Loki pulls his hands away, staring down at the smear of his own blood across his palms, a kind of curiousness lighting his gaze at the sight before he looks up at Thor, eyes glittering as a twisted smile warps his thin lips, and he begins to _laugh_.

"Oh, you _are _predictable, _brother_." He snorts, even as he puts his hands flat to the ground and with obvious effort, begins to push himself to his feet.

Thor steps back, towards Jane, grabbing her too roughly by the arm and tugging her to his side.

"Threaten her again, and I will kill you." He spits.

Loki is straightening out his clothes again, dusting himself off in seemingly oblivious apathy to the seriousness of Thor's voice.

"What need have I to threaten her," he begins, as casually as if he were having a conversation about the weather. "when you all but ensure her demise through your own, stubborn blindness?"

He looks back at Thor with disdainful eyes, viciously bright and intelligent.

And Jane feels suddenly terrified at his words. At the sickening sensation that in them lies only _truth_.

Thor stares back, barely suppressing his own rage, silent, before abruptly he moves, dragging Jane with him.

"Come," he says to her, ignoring Loki as they move past him. "We will go to my own rooms and begin to prepare. We leave tonight."

Jane says nothing, allowing Thor to move her away, towards the foyer.

As they reach the doors, she dares to steal one last glance back, and she sees Loki there, standing with his back to them. He is still, head bowed slightly, arms hung limp at his sides.

And she doesn't know why, looking at him, she's overcome with a sudden sadness.

She doesn't know why, and she pushes the feeling down, turning back, leaving him behind as she lets Thor take her away.

/

**AN: Thanks so much again to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! Really glad you all are liking it so far, and let me know what you think of this chapter! Thanks again!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

"Does he have to come with us?"

Thor glances back over his shoulder at her, pulling the buckle of his chest plate tight and securing it through the loop, a frown playing over his features.

Jane is sitting along the edge of his bed, her tiny hands smoothing down the silken surface of the comforter over and over in a nervous gesture. She isn't looking back at him, her eyes trained down.

When she receives no immediate answer, she at last glances up, and Thor can see the anxious worry etching her features.

"Your… your brother, I mean."

He turns fully towards her, regarding her closely.

"You fear him?" He asks bluntly, trying to keep his tone soft.

Absently, she nods.

"Kind of. I mean…" she pauses, glancing away again, repeating the motion of her hands over the bed. "With everything he did on Earth and… just… the things he was saying and everything …" she finishes in a mutter.

Thor's frown deepens, and he steps towards her until he's standing just inches away. Crouching down, he reaches out and takes gentle hold of her wrists, pulling her hands forward in his own.

"Jane," he begins, looking up into her face, and she looks back, unsure. He tries for a smile, weak though it is. "I swear to you, I will let no harm befall you, either from Loki or any other. You have my word."

She smiles back, the effort just as pale, and nods.

"I know." She answers quietly.

And God, Thor is so handsome, she thinks. So _unnaturally_ handsome, just like all of the people here. Impossibly beautiful and perfect.

Like _gods_.

She feels suddenly, overwhelmingly inadequate. Like she doesn't belong here. Like she can't possibly _ever _belong among these beings.

"… This is all," she shrugs halfheartedly. "Just, so much… so soon." She looks away. "I mean, I haven't even ever been anywhere in my own world except America and some parts of Europe. And now I'm in an entire other _galaxy_, who knows how many light years away, and about to travel to another one, no less alien, and I just…"

She stops, shaking her head, not knowing what else to say.

Thor stares at her, silent a long moment, features drawn in concern.

Until finally, he stands, and steps back.

"I would not have asked Loki to join us had there been any other way." He begins to explain, and Jane looks back to him. "But with Father in the Odinsleep, Loki is the only sorcerer left on Asgard with the power to bring us to their Realm. And for reasons beyond that, even, we require Loki's assistance in this battle. The Dark Elves are powerful sorcerer's themselves, and none know magic better than my brother."

Here, he pauses, looking away.

Jane doesn't miss the way his large hands clench to fists at his side. The taught anxiousness of his frame.

"And," he starts again. "for one reason other… Loki alone knows the way through their world. Knows the paths and terrain to their cities." He glances back at her, and at once there is such profound pain and fury in his gaze, she nearly herself has to look away. "He is the only one among us to have ever ventured there and back. Without him, we should find ourselves hopelessly lost."

There is more there, Jane realizes, watching the thunder god. More to this tale he isn't telling. Some kind of deep seeded hurt of the past.

She knows better than to push though, and simply nods, watching in silence the remainder of the time as Thor finishes preparing for the journey ahead.

/

They meet Loki, and a half dozen guards by his rooms, where the crown Prince resumes custodianship of his brother, grasping to his arm tightly and commanding him to lead them to the site most suited for the "jump", as Thor calls it.

Loki has nothing more on his person than his intricately woven and embroidered green and black armor, along with a small satchel attached to his hip. Thor carries a considerably larger sack, swung over his shoulder, and Jane has her own pack, smaller than Thor's, larger than Loki's, which she carries on her back.

Loki leads them silently, a pace ahead of Thor, his arm still held, the guards following closely behind.

Jane leans in towards the thunder god and whispers…

"Are they coming with us?" She gestures back towards the men at their backs, and Thor shakes his head absently.

"No." He answers. "They follow only as a precaution. It will only be you and I and Loki when we arrive. Once we've reached the heart of their world, Loki will open a path for others to come through. It is the best way to disguise our force from them and spring an ambush upon their armies."

"Oh." Jane blinks, her eyes glancing at the trickster god.

He is walking stiffly and straight, head held high, an unmistakable air of superiority and pride radiating off of him in waves.

The armor adds considerably to his size, making him appear much larger and stronger than otherwise, taller even, and Jane can't help but notice how well put together he seems. He is clean, his long hair tied back in a swinging ponytail and incredibly soft looking, so black as to appear almost blue, contrasting sharply with the snow paleness of his skin. His posture is impossibly straight, his steps graceful and light despite the restraint of Thor's hand on his arm.

He is regal, Jane thinks, and then quickly frowns at the impression.

He's also a psychopath, she reminds herself. Completely insane, and she would do best to keep her distance.

As though hearing her thoughts, he suddenly turns his head, looking back at her intently, and immediately, she turns away, feeling her face flush for some unknown reason, her nerves tingling uncomfortably.

She can see him watching her from the corner of her eye, and she feels sick with fear a moment, before she sees him turn away again, looking straight ahead and silent.

There is something unnaturally aware in Loki's gaze, she thinks. His eyes _too _sharp, _too _seeing.

It makes her feel naked before him, as though he can see into her very soul, and any secretes she might have hoped to keep are laid bare in the bright light of day for him to scrutinize and judge and take advantage of.

To use against her.

It's eerie, the way he looks at you and just seems to _know_.

"It is my strategy." He says suddenly, pulling her hard from her thoughts.

She sees Thor stiffen beside her, and a sly smile spread over Loki's lips.

"Thor would have had me pull all our warriors through the portal and march loudly and brashly across the plains of Svartalfheim, announcing our arrival and numbers well in advance and allowing for the enemy to adequately prepare in greeting."

He looks over at Jane again, smirking.

"That, of course, would have been the _brave _and _noble_ course. But, alas, two traits I have always found myself short in, preferring more underhanded and _cowardly_ tricks to outright battle and courage. I still am not certain how it was I convinced him to let me have my way."

Thor jerks back on Loki's arm, harshly, causing the younger god to stumble back and nearly lose his balance.

"Do not speak to her." He spits angrily. "You have caused enough unrest already."

Jane swallows nervously, watching Loki struggle to straighten himself, a brief flash of anger running across his fine features before being replaced by a mask of indifference.

"Far be it from me to thieve praise from the mighty thunderer of Asgard." He mutters disgustedly. "Most especially in matters of war and before a delicate lady who's admiration he has hard won."

"_Loki_!" Thor's grip on his arm tightens, painfully, but the trickster god gives no indication of feeling a thing at all, simply resuming their march forward, suddenly silent.

Jane watches with growing unease, falling behind Thor a few steps, her apprehension suddenly seeming to increase several fold.

They haven't come anywhere near where they're going yet, and already, the tension between Thor and his brother is palpable, and the air is thick with the sense that at any moment, things may fall completely apart.

Jane wonders if it was always like this between the two. This anger and aggression and dislike… she might even call it hatred. Barely checked rage.

She thinks that can't be. That they must have gotten along better at some point. If Thor is as old as he's indicated, and Loki the same, there's no way they could have lived together for that long if things had always been this way.

And Thor's said things, spoken of Loki in front of her in an almost cautiously fond way, always with a sense of deep sadness. She thinks he must have loved his brother at some point. Perhaps even still does, though the mistrust he has for Loki is clear. And Loki himself seems completely detached and cold towards Thor. Constantly insulting and drawing him in to verbal sparring matches and tearing him to shreds with words.

Jane finds herself wondering at who Loki is. What he must have been like, before. If he was any different at all, or if Thor was just letting his love for his brother blind him to the monster he always had been.

Thor says Loki is infinitely clever.

"The most clever of the gods." He had said.

And he's spoken of Loki having the greatest wit and sense of humor of any man he has ever known. Of how Loki had used to make him laugh like no other could. How he had used to be playfully mischievous and even kind hearted. Sensitive and almost painfully aware of the world and others.

Jane can see none of that in the trickster god now.

He seems so… hard to her.

So _mean_.

So _not_ like Thor, who is possibly the most open, good hearted and true man she's ever met.

God… man…

She still isn't sure how to think of him. How to think of any of them.

It seems to take forever to reach where it is they're going, and by the time they do, Jane realizes with confusion, seemingly matched by Thor, that they've ended up on the Rainbow Bridge again, near the observatory, where Heimdall, the gatekeeper stands, watching their approach with apathetic, emotionless eyes.

Heimdall is massive. The largest of any of them that she's thus far seen, and Jane hadn't been able to help herself clinging almost desperately to Thor when first she'd arrived and been greeted by the sight of the motionless god.

Thor had laughed and held her hand gently within his own, telling her she had nothing to fear, that Heimdall would not harm her.

The gatekeeper had simply bowed his head in acknowledgement to her before greeting Thor home, and that had been all she heard of his deep and booming voice.

Loki isn't slowing down as he approaches the larger god, and Jane feels a sense of disquiet as they draw closer.

Heimdall seems even bigger to her than before. Both Thor and Loki are tall, but Heimdall simply towers over them, and over Loki especially, the added mass of his armor doing nothing against the sheer size and width of the gatekeeper. Loki almost looks like a child before him. But if the difference between them has any affect at all on the trickster, it doesn't show. He stops just feet before Heimdall, staring up at him, a smug smirk spread across his lips, eyes sharp and glinting.

"_Good_ Heimdall." He greets, and the mockery in his voice is apparent.

Thor's hand on his arm tightens, and he leans in, whispering harshly against Loki's ear…

"What are we _doing_ here brother?"

But Loki ignores him, and the growing unrest at his back, holding the gatekeeper's gaze with unflinching scrutiny.

Heimdall glares down at him, his normally impassive expression lined, if only vaguely, with clear disgust.

It is more than apparent the larger god's thoughts on the second Prince.

"Loki." He says back.

Loki's brows rise along his forehead, eyes slightly widened.

He presses a hand against his chest, wide palm flat and long fingers splaying.

"No _formal_ greeting for your Prince?" He asks, voice thick with flippancy.

Hemidall actually sneers.

"You are a traitor and a coward, Loki. You no longer hold the title of Prince."

Loki's smile widens.

"Oh, and here I had been led to think elsewise. Certainly it is Thor's and the _Queen's _decree that I still hold my title. Or does Frigga's _death _render her declaration null and void?!"

Loki steps forward, closing the distance between he and the gatekeeper to inches, and Thor grits his teeth, stepping with him, ready to pull him back.

Heimdall says nothing, and Loki stares up at him with clear write hatred across his features.

"Will you blame me, good Heimdall, for the passage of the Dark Elves into this Realm?" He asks, voice deep and angry, and Jane feels herself tense further. "And what of this title _traitor_? Was it not you who made so blatant an attempt on my life while I sat upon the throne of this world you've sworn to protect? A position held also at the Queen's decree? Was it not you who disobeyed the word of your then _King_ when you sent a treasonous band of disloyal miscreants to undo All-Father Odin's final act before falling to his sleep?"

Another step, and Loki is nearly pressed, body against body, to Hemidall.

"No, gatekeeper," he whispers, harsh and low. "No. It is _you_ who are traitor to Asgard. As it is you who allowed Malekith and his forces past your watch. Who allowed him entry to _murder our Queen_!" Loki's voice rises in a growl, and Heimdall's face contorts in rage, lifting his sword back, over and behind his head, ready to bring it down upon the younger god.

Thor intervenes then, jerking Loki back and stepping in the path of Heimdalls's swing, reaching out and seizing the gatekeepers arm, stilling his blade.

"Heimdall!" He shouts. "Stay your blade! Have you gone mad?!"

"The Sly one spills poisonous lies!" Heimdall spits, eyes locked and fuming on the second Prince.

Loki stares back, his own eyes cutting in their hatred, mouth set in a thin, angry line.

"Even if that is so!" Thor interjects, clearly furious. "Loki IS your Prince. He still holds the title and to purposefully lay harm to him would be treason. _Stay your blade_!"

Heimdall stands a moment, sword still raised, eyes still locked on Loki, breath coming hard and fast, until finally, slowly, his arms sink, and he straightens, his gaze moving to Thor.

"My apologies, Prince Thor." He at last says, calmed. "I should not have allowed your _brother_ to incite me to such violence."

"You incite yourself Heimdall," Loki snaps from behind. "your anger ignited at the truth of my words. Fear of the truth, it is easier to proclaim the speaker of it a silver tongued liar."

Heimdall's eyes shift back to him, body tensing, and it is only Thor's hand on his shoulder which still him, and forces him to again back down.

A moment passes in intense silence then, until finally, Thor steps away, turning back to face Loki, grabbing him roughly by the collar of his surcoat, shaking him hard and demanding…

"Loki, why have you brought us here!? Only to cause unrest and tempt others towards punishable behavior?"

Loki sneers, and the smiles cruelly up at the thunderer.

"I wished for Heimdall to observer the ineffectiveness of his post." He answers smoothly. "To observe the advantage one skilled in the art he so easily and readily dismisses as beneath him has. To see how truly powerless he is against this weak _coward_."

Thor's face twists in a scowl, and unthinkingly, he fists his fingers in Loki's hair, jerking his head painfully to the side. Loki does nothing, makes no sound, expression unmoving.

Jane brings her fist to her mouth, biting hard against her knuckles.

Oh God…

"Enough!" Thor hisses. "Enough of this pettiness!" He jerks Loki's head one last time before shoving him back, pointing a finger into his face. "You take us to the site needed Loki! You will not waste any more of our time!"

Loki brings his pale, long hands to his hair, smoothing is back, deliberately slow, seeming a moment not to pay attention to his elder brother, before finally, a smile slides over his features, and he looks up at him, green eyes unnaturally bright, the beckoning of his magic to the surface.

Thor stiffens instinctively at the sight, cautious.

"This place will do as well as any." Loki says, and Thor's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"Aye?" He asks.

Loki rolls his eyes.

"There is no particular spot more suited to the task of skywalking than others. You either can or you cannot open the door to the spaces between."

Shrugging dismissively at Thor's incredulous stare, the trickster god turns, eyes catching Jane, who automatically goes rigid and unconsciously takes a step back. Loki smiles.

"My magic is yet to regain its full strength. Still struggling against the dampening affects of Odin's own." He goes on, casually. "The walk will be unpleasant for the instability. A warning to you and your fair maiden, Thor."

He turns, looking back to the thunderer, smile still in place.

Thor glares angrily at him, silent a moment, before finally huffing.

"Be on with it then!" He snaps, gesturing impatiently towards the second Prince.

Loki's smile widens.

"Do not forget your sack Thor." He reminds. "Now give me your hands, both of you."

Thor grumbles wearily, bending and scooping up his dropped bag, hefting it again onto his shoulder before reaching out and grasping hold of Loki's outstretched hand.

He stares, for a moment, at their interlocked fingers. Loki's are thin, but even longer than his own, palm just as wide.

It strikes him as odd, the larger hands of his frail, small younger brother.

Jane stands, still, hands balled nervously at her sides, gazing with uncertainty at the Loki's offered hand.

"Well then?" He asks, eyebrow raised.

Jane looks up at him, and then Thor, pleading for some sort of guidance.

Thor nods at her.

"It is well Jane. He will not harm you." He assures.

She hesitates a moment more, clearly concerned, and Loki waits, unmoving, watching her intently, until, at last, she reaches out, her tiny hand disappearing within his, and she nearly starts at the _coolness_ of his skin.

It's actually _cold_, like ice, or chilled marble. Yet somehow, not painful to the touch.

She finds herself lost in thought over it before the mischief god's refined voice breaks her out of it, his fingers clasping firmly around her own.

Jane swallows, frightened a moment he may crush her hand. She can feel the power in his own, even as she realizes he isn't hurting her, and only mild relief floods her insides.

"Do not let go of me." He says, turning to look both at her and Thor. "Should I lose you on the paths, you will be ripped from it and pulled into the nothingness of the void."

There is a seriousness to his eyes which momentarily freezes Jane's heart. A haunted shadow behind which shoots a spike of nauseating fear through her insides and makes her dizzy.

Thor has told her how Loki fell from the edge of the Bifrost. How he fell into the void…

A faint frown plays at his lips, a deep line furrowed between his brows as he looks back at her.

"You will be lost." He says. "Should the void take you."

And that is all the warning he gives.

Within an instant, there is a flash of blinding, white light, and a sickening pull against her very form, the feeling that her insides are being ripped clean out.

A scream tries to work its way to her lips and release, but the sound dies in her throat, and there is nothing. Only the crushing pressure of a force beyond her understanding, and the deafening cacophony of impossibly fast movement through time and space.

Through it, her only comfort is the feel of that cold, strong hand, wrapped unyielding around her own. And she grips back with terrified desperation, praying to whoever might hear her that this not be the end. Oh God, she doesn't want to die in space. She doesn't want to…

And as suddenly as it began, it is over.

With extreme abruptness, there is hardened ground underneath her feet, and she feels the strength of that grip around her hand release.

Her eyes snap open, and blink furiously against the muted midday sun and grey skies of the barren and frozen landscape spread out before them.

"Ah!" She hears Loki say, somewhere beside her. "Here we are! Svartalfheim. The _Dark _World."

And then Jane's knees go weak, and she stumbles forward as the wave of nausea crushes down across her. She throws up. The contents of her earlier meal splashing across the frost tipped blades of grass beneath her feet.

Somewhere out of her line of sight, she thinks she hears Thor, being sick the same.

Loki watches them, smiling wide.

"I did give fair warning the walk would be unpleasant, did I not?" He asks.

And then he laughs. Loud and long and filled with sincere, true mirth.

/

**AN: Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers for the last chapter! I appreciate ALL of you more than you know. I'm sorry I haven't been getting back to all of you. My schedule has been kind of hectic lately, but I would love to hear from you again and know your thoughts!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

By the time they begin to set up camp, the sun has set, and Jane feels like she might die from exhaustion.

She isn't used to this.

She's always prided herself on being in fairly good physical condition. She works out regularly. Takes at least 30 minutes a day on the treadmill, five days a week.

But this…

After being ill, not five minutes after she and Thor had completely humiliated themselves hurling their insides out, Thor and his brother had gotten into yet another, vicious argument, which Jane had been sure this time would escalate into blows, with her trapped in the middle.

Whatever her curiosity, she has no desire to see two gods battle it out.

Thor had pulled some sort of thin fetter from his belt, one which caught the low light and seemed to actually glow within it.

The moment Loki had seen it hanging loose from the thunderer's thick fingers, his face had hardened, and such absolute rage had flit across his eyes, Jane had unconsciously stepped back and away from him.

The fetter, Thor had announced with no small hint of trepidation as he locked his gaze on his brother, was for the trickster god's wrists, to bind his magic, and Loki had erupted into unchecked protests, screaming at the Crown Prince so intensely, his voice had broken and pitched what seemed several octaves higher.

"You would leave me powerless?!" He'd asked incredulously. "As we traverse across these lands where it is only with _certainty_ we will be attacked before reaching our destination? You would rob me of my seidr once more, when we come to face others of my ilk?!"

Thor had gone on to explain that he couldn't trust Loki, that he couldn't trust him not to turn on them and leave he and Jane abandoned in this world. He had pulled rank, and ordered Loki to obey, or their bargain would be rendered void. He had promised to remove the fetter if and when they found themselves in battle, and a roar of anger had escaped past Loki's lips, before he'd turned away, gesticulating wildly as he muttered to himself that there would be no time in the heat of battle to remove the binds.

Jane hadn't spoken a word, paralyzed to the spot, watching it all unfold.

And when finally, seeing he had no choice, and Loki had submitted himself to Thor, letting his wrists be bound together, Jane had felt the sudden urge to protest against it. The thought that Loki was their only, real defense. The only magic user among their party. The only one who would understand and know how to fight against these elves…

But she hadn't said anything, too afraid, too uncertain.

Afterwards, Loki had fallen eerily silent, leading them on their trek, several paces ahead, his balance compromised for how his hands were bound before him.

Thor had walked with his arm around her, holding her close and protective.

Several hours later, Loki's pace hadn't once slowed, and Jane found herself wondering at the impossibility of his endurance.

After seeing his emaciated, painfully thin body earlier in his rooms, she hadn't thought what ever strength he had would hold out through anything overly, physically vigorous.

But God, had she been wrong.

Thor's own endurance held out the same, but that wasn't any sort of surprise. Thor looked like he could lift a mountain, he was so unbelievably muscular and thick.

But eventually, Jane had felt herself growing faint, her breath wheezing through her lungs in strained huffs, her feet stumbling in weakness beneath her.

She had begged Thor for them to stop, and she had felt her face burn with humiliation when Loki had turned and glared at her accusingly, and then at Thor, his expression clearly conveying the apparently universal 'I told you so!'.

But Thor, blessed Thor, had insisted they stop for the day and make camp, and Loki had only muttered indignantly to himself that at this rate, by the time they reached the city, Malekith will have already mounted his forces fully and been well on his way to sacking what remained of their precious Asgard.

But he had allowed it then without further complaint, and now, the three of them sit awkwardly in silence around a small fire.

It is freezing here at night, and Jane is grateful for the warmth. Even more grateful for Thor's arm around her, holding her close, and the heat of his body. Loki sits across from them.

Alone.

Thor had somehow managed to fit an entire tent into that canvas bag of his, and had promptly went about setting it up, the small structure erected now beside them.

Loki had built the fire, and Jane had found herself watching him in almost mesmerized fascination.

He had gone about, gathering kindle, disappearing for several minutes into the surrounding trees, emerging with his arms filled with strips of wood, all, somehow, almost equally measured.

And with the deftness of experience, he had built the pit and stacked the wood, setting it alight with two stones like it was nothing, coaxing the tiny flame until it had grown into a well established fire.

Jane had realized, watching him, and at his earlier show of endurance and seemingly tireless will to move forward, he was _used_ to this.

She knew from what myths she had read that adventures and quests were a regular thing amongst the gods. Most especially between Thor and Loki. But still, it took her by surprise.

They were, after all, royalty. She'd never had the impression that people in such positions of power and privilege would ever be accustomed to these sorts of hardships, or understand so well how to survive on so little.

Jane has never considered herself privileged, having had to work tooth and nail for everything she's ever accomplished, but she knows she wouldn't last two hours out here on her own.

Watching Loki, she realizes, he could last months out here without a single other soul to aid him.

And somehow, all at once, that both reassures and scares the hell out of her.

Somewhere in the interim he had set up a snare and caught a rabbit, skinned it within seconds, and set up on a pike over the flames, which Jane had watched with a feeling of queasy dismay, and which Thor had simply accepted and partaken in without word, as though he'd expected Loki to catch them their dinner and no thanks was required.

That had rubbed Jane the wrong way. But Loki hadn't reacted at all to Thor's lack of verbal gratitude, or to his tearing one of the poor creature's legs from its body and sinking his teeth into it, and so she had kept quiet about her feelings.

There seemed to be some sort of established dynamic between the two brothers, she was beginning to realize. Loki was their guide, but Thor was unmistakably in charge, and it didn't escape her notice that Thor often spoke to and handled the younger Prince with something akin to dominance. He was rough with the mischief god, and at times what some might call unkind. She had thought perhaps it was due to what Loki had done, what he had become, but Loki's reactions to the treatment, or rather, lack thereof, the sort of quiet, resigned way he took it, it spoke of someone who had long since grown accustomed to such regard. Like it was what he expected, and that had left a distinctly unpleasant feel in the pit of Jane's stomach.

But, she reminded herself grimly, Loki really deserved nothing better. Did he? He was a mass murderer, a would be fascist dictator, an invader, and totally, utterly insane. He didn't deserve to be handled with kid gloves. He'd denied himself the privilege of common courtesy when he'd tried to take over her planet.

So she kept her mouth shut.

Eventually, after sitting still as a statue for long minutes, Loki had reached out and ripped his own leg from the rabbit, Jane watching with an expression of ill-hidden disgust across her features, expecting him to sink his teeth into the meat the way Thor had done not long before.

And so she had blinked in confusion, and stared startled and wide eyed as he'd held the leg of meat out to her, watching her face intently.

Her eyes had flicked up to his, swallowing against the way his already terribly sharp features were thrown into such stark relief in the glow of firelight and darkness around them. He looked like some kind of ghost, pale and ethereal and harsh.

She had swallowed, frozen, and he had leaned closer, holding the offered food nearer, nodding his head.

Again, her gaze had dropped to it, feeling her stomach protest at the sight.

"I… I don't really…" she had begun to stammer. She was starving, having not eaten since earlier that morning, before the attack, the remnants of which she had expunged from her system hours before. But the sight of the meat in Loki's hand, the memory of him skinning the poor creature of it's fur and laying it onto a sharp stick… it all added up to conjure her apprehension and disgust. "I don't think I can eat that." She had finally managed.

And when she'd dared to look up at the trickster god, his face had been one of, at first, blank confusion, and then incredulous annoyance as he'd leaned back and dropped the leg onto the rocks surrounding the fire pit.

"Fine then." He'd spit, not bothering to cover the anger in his voice. "_Starve_ for all I care."

And then he had fallen silent again, sat unmoving across from her and Thor, eyes fixed away, and Thor had reached out and taken up the dropped leg of meat, handed it to Jane, whispering quietly to her that she had to eat, or she wouldn't last.

And finally, Jane had accepted, and once she'd begun eating, it had been remarkably quick she'd finished the meat off.

Only later, when most of the rabbit was gone, did she realize, Loki hadn't eaten anything at all.

And now Thor is dousing the fire, plunging the world around them into greater darkness and taking her gently by the arm, helping her to her feet, speaking quietly against her ear that they should get some rest.

Loki has yet to move from his spot on the ground.

"Brother," Thor begins, voice unusually quiet. "will you not come to bed?"

Loki isn't looking at them still, eyes fixed away, at some distant point across the open space around them.

Several seconds pass before he answers.

"Perhaps later." He replies at last, voice near soundless.

And Thor simply nods, guiding Jane then towards the tent to retire until morning.

She glances back at Loki one last time before moving through the tent's flap, and sees him, knees drawn up, elbows hooked loose round them, still staring off into the distance.

/

Jane starts awake, she doesn't know how many minutes or hours later. For a moment, she is disoriented, and fears grips her as her mind races to catch up to memory, trying to determine where she _is_.

She feels the warmth of a body at her back, pressed securely against her, the rise and fall of deep, steady breaths, and she remembers…

_Thor_.

The rest falls quickly into place, and she feels the beat of her heart slow, the burgeoning panic dying in her breast.

She blinks, eyes taking a long moment to adjust to the dark, and she realizes, as her gaze lands on the barely visible crack of the tents flap, and sees nothing but black beyond it, that it must still be night.

And then she recalls him.

Loki.

And in a surge of unease, she sits up, eyes moving about the small enclosure, searching for his resting form, finding nothing but empty space.

Irrational fear takes her.

Thoughts of abandonment, of being trapped on this hostile, alien world. Thor's words from earlier, unable to trust Loki not to turn on them and leave them alone here.

What if he had? What if he'd left them, and they now had no way of escape?!

Thor had told her only Loki was capable of bringing them to and from this world. That the Bifrost had no anchor point here. Could not reach them. That Heimdall could not _see_ them.

Without thought, Jane struggles to her feet, fear threatening to turn again to consuming panic, and she stumbles thoughtless towards the opening.

She has no idea what she's doing. Doesn't know what she'll do, if she finds Loki gone, and her and Thor left on their own.

Doesn't know…

Breathlessly, she grabs at the flaps edge and pulls it back, lurching forward to the outside.

Immediately, her bare arms and the skin of her face are assaulted by the freezing chill of the wind whipped air, and she stops, paralyzed a moment, eyes running over the darkened landscape ahead, tinted blue against the too close stars and three moons above.

And then she sees him.

And both shocking relief and sudden unease take her at the sight.

He is sitting in the same place as when she and Thor retreated back to the tent, staring out towards the tree line, unmoving, but it is darker now outside, and she can tell by it that it has been at least a few hours since.

She watches him a few, long seconds, debating viciously within her mind as to whether she should say anything, or simply go back and lay down beside Thor, try to fall back asleep.

Her debating comes to an abrupt halt when his voice suddenly sounds, making her flinch violently in shock.

"Rest alludes you this night, fair Lady Jane." He says, so softly she just barely makes out the words.

It isn't a question.

She swallows thickly, trying to regain herself, her nerves suddenly prickling with discomfort.

"… How'd you know I was there?" She asks shakily, hating herself for how afraid she knows she must sound.

She can practically _hear _Loki smirk.

"You will find, Ms. Foster," he says. "that there are very few individuals in the Nine who possess the required stealth to sneak up behind and catch me unawares."

And then he turns, and his eyes are very nearly _glowing_ in the dark of the night, and Jane feels herself tense with further anxiety.

It's just another reminder that these men she's with aren't _men_ at all.

That they're something else entirely, and that thought causes greater unrest in her than she would like to admit.

He gestures elegantly as he can with his hands bound towards the log she and Thor had earlier been using as a seat.

"Please," he says, tone perfect politeness. "will you join me?"

Jane hesitates, scrambling for a reason to refuse.

She doesn't want to be alone with Loki. She knows Thor is just right inside, and if his brother should try anything, all she has to do is call out. But still…

"It's kind of cold…" she tries lamely, and Loki _smiles _at her. And expression which tells her he knows just exactly how full of shit she really is.

"You needn't be gentle with my _feelings_, Ms. Foster." He says. "I've endured far greater insult than the refusal of my company. You do not trust me, as well you should not. But please, I should like to have words with you. If you will do me the honor of your conversation, you will have won my gratitude for at _least_ the passing of a day."

He doesn't even try to hide the sarcastic tone of his voice, or the absurdity of his promised appreciation. And yet, somehow, Jane finds herself more desiring to grant his request and sit with him, to _talk_. She has no idea why.

There is charm in his delivery, she thinks. Improbable, impossible charm.

He is a master of getting what he wants through speech alone.

And without even realizing it, Jane at once finds herself stepping fully from the relative safety of the tent and lowering herself onto the log across from him. Seemingly of their own volition, her arms come up, wrapping around herself in some vain attempt to protect from the cold.

"Here…" Loki says, reaching up and undoing the clasp positioned just below his collarbone, releasing the cloak which lies across his shoulders. It slips from him, and he gathers it up, handing it out to her. "Put this around your shoulders. It will keep you warm."

Reluctantly, Jane reaches out, her thin fingers burying in the soft material, marveling at the fineness of the fabric, and the deep shade of its color.

She stares at it a long moment, before glancing up to the trickster god, who nods in her direction.

"Go on." He says.

She really _is _cold out here. More than just uncomfortably so. The wind bites, stabbing into her exposed skin like tiny needles.

Taking a deep breath, she at last consents, turning the cloak in a whirl, and letting it fall over her back and shoulders, doing up the clasp. The thing is made for a frame much larger and taller than her own, and it drapes across her arms, encompassing her almost fully.

And, as the seconds pass, she realizes with a start that she can actually feel _heat_ radiating from the cloak, soaking into her chilled skin. Her shock must show on her face, because Loki is grinning at her.

"The cloak is enchanted to keep its wearer warm always and no matter the environment." He explains, sounding, she thinks, almost proud. "There is none other like it in all of Asgard."

Absently, Jane pokes her fingers from underneath the material, running them along the exterior of it, again admiring the plush softness and wondering at the possibilities of something so thin and light being able to exude this kind of heat and keep the outside coldness so well at bay.

"Thank you." She murmurs softly, and Loki simply inclines his head.

They fall into silence for some minutes then, Jane feeling awkward and uncertain.

She keeps stealing glances at the mischief god, but he isn't looking back at her, his eyes once more fixed on the tree line in the distance.

She wonders what it is he's seeing, if he's seeing anything at all.

Her eyes flit to where she thinks he must be looking, and all she can make out is the vague outline of the trees, and darkness.

Shifting her eyes away again, she swallows, pulling the cloak tighter around herself, though she feels no cold now except against her cheeks.

Loki had said he wanted to talk to her, but he hasn't said a single word in several minutes, and she's beginning to wonder if he will at all.

There is an intensity to Thor's little brother which leaves her feeling anxious.

Thor carries no lack of intense presence himself, but it is wholly different from the vibe she feels off of the younger Prince.

Thor is powerful, and charismatic. The sort, she knows, who steals the attention of all upon entering a room.

But Loki causes in her a kind of trepidation. The sort one might feel in the presence of some predatory animal. The way your hair stands on end when you just instinctively know danger is near.

And again, there are his eyes.

In Jane's field, she's had the honor and privilege of working with many an intellectually gifted individual.

But never has she encountered eyes the likes of Loki's.

There is frightening, vicious intelligence there. So sharp, and so clear, she has found it impossible to hold his gaze for more than a few, fleeting moments before she's forced to look away, unsettled.

His perception feels exposing. She can see in the depths of his regard an ability to glean truth from whomever he's turned his attentions on. Ironic, she thinks, for one dubbed Liesmith.

He isn't the sort you want to engage, she's sure. Not if you have something you wish to keep hidden and secret. And everybody has things they don't want known.

She figures that's where the mistrust must come from then, among the other Aesir.

That too obvious intelligence along with Loki's apparent panache for mischief.

And something about that strikes the physicist as unfair.

To be condemned for being too smart?

That has always been one of the great tragedies of human nature, she's thought. To spurn those whose minds worked differently from the general.

She's dealt with her own, fair share of strange looks and dismissive rudeness to know of it firsthand.

Apparently, it is a condition not simply limited to mankind.

"We are being watched."

Her thoughts are disrupted by the sudden sound of his voice, and her eyes snap to him.

"What?" She asks, alarmed.

And she sees Loki nod in the direction of the tree line he's been staring towards all night.

"There, in the trees." He offers. "A lookout party of six. They've been trailing us since our arrival."

"What?!" Jane exclaims, eyes going wide, head snapping in the direction of the woods. "They've been…"

Her eyes search desperately for any signs of movement, any outlines. But she sees nothing.

"How can you see them in this dark?" She asks, confused. And she hears Loki chuckles softly.

"Have you not heard, Ms. Foster?" He asks, sliding his gaze towards her. "The Aesir will have markedly superior eyesight to any mortal, of course. Ah, but I am not Aesir. I am Jotun. A _Frost Giant_."

He doesn't even attempt to hide the disgust from his voice at the words which fall from his lips.

"A fact I only just recently had brought to my attention." He goes on, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I did so often wonder and pride myself in the one, physical superiority I had over Thor and all his companions. I should have guessed something amiss at the absolute impossibility of it. But, alas, childish hope and the like. You see, Ms. Foster, the Jotnar hail from a realm far darker than the one we now find ourselves."

He leans forward slightly, almost conspiratorially, as though getting ready to share some great secret with her.

"In Jotunheim, there is perpetual night three seasons out of the year, and what little sun there is, is provided by a white dwarf star, hardly able to penetrate the thick cover of the realms atmosphere. Keen sight is a trait essential for survival in such a harsh, cold world."

For a moment, Jane isn't sure what to say, staring back at him, her unease suddenly growing. He's staring back at her, with no indication of looking away, and finally her eyes slide back to the tree line, and she swallows nervously.

"Are…" she starts, cursing herself for her inability to keep the slight tremor out of her voice. "Are they going to attack us?" She finally asks.

And finally, Loki leans back, his head shaking.

"No." He replies easily, confidently. "The task is not theirs. They only are meant to report back on what they see of us."

"Well, shouldn't, I mean… shouldn't we tell Thor, or…" she tries, frightened despite herself.

And again, Loki shakes his head.

"I think not." He says. "Thor will only insist we engage them."

"But…" she looks back to Loki now. "if we don't stop them, they'll tell everyone that we're here!"

Loki nods.

"Aye. And while normally I would have little qualm in pressing the attack against unarmed opponents," he grins at her, and she feels a chill run down her spine at the expression. "Thor will be less so inclined, because, you see, it would not be the _honorable _thing to do. But still in his blundering entitlement and confidence, he may reveal to them our plan and position, or unintentionally goad them into attacking us, wasting both our time and energy. We will be faced with more than our fair share of trained warriors and bandits on our journey there. There is little need to worry so over what otherwise will remain a non-threat."

"But, if they report back to their leaders about us…"

"They remain oblivious to my own knowledge of them." Loki cuts her short. And then he bows his head slightly, never taking his eyes from her, a faint smile along his thin lips. "They will be taken care of. I will see to it." He promises.

Jane stiffens, at the not so subtle implications of his words, in trepidation at the prospect of being attacked and, as it sinks in, affront at the way Loki speaks of Thor.

"You really think we'll be attacked?" She asked, deciding it safer to focus away from her indignation.

"It is a certainty." Loki replied quickly. "A matter not of if, but simply when. I would estimate within the coming day."

And at that, Jane feels her face blanch slightly, a queasy feeling blooming in the pit of her stomach.

She doesn't relish the thought of encountering the kind of violence she was exposed to back in the palace again. Not ever. Why the hell did Thor bring her on this trip again?

"The prospect frightens you." She hears Loki say, eyes snapping back to him.

His expression gives nothing away, neither happy nor sad, nor angry. She can't read him at all.

"No." She blurts, unthinkingly.

And then he smiles.

"Come now," he says. "lies are my life's blood. There is little enough use in trying to deceive me."

She looks away again, feeling her face burn in embarrassment.

"A little…" she at last admits. "I guess."

Loki nods.

"I told the oaf not to bring you. But rare has it been he has ever heeded my advice."

Jane feels that same anger reignite in her.

She's had it just about up to here, listening to Loki insult Thor.

She glares at him, frowning.

"Why are you helping us Loki?" She asks, her voice a little more agitated than she would have liked. "I mean, it's clearly not for your brother. And I doubt you give two shits about me."

A small smile tugs at the corners of the trickster god's mouth, sardonic, his eyes sliding away from her.

For a long moment, he is silent.

And then he says…

"There are many reasons for the things I do."

"Yeah?" Jane asks, suddenly emboldened, though she doesn't know why. "Thor says it's for your mother. Because of what happened."

At that, Loki's eyes shift back to her, rapidly, and she sees the first, true hints of anger in his gaze since she met him.

Immediate apprehension fills her.

"Thor is a fool." He says simply, tone caustic and bitter.

And like that, the apprehension goes, replaced once more by the anger.

"Call him all the names you like." She spits back. "But he's the bravest man I've ever known."

Loki's expression is no longer the blank, indifferent mask she's used to seeing on him, but hurriedly shifting into something viciously mad. Something dark and chaotic swirling through his vividly green eyes.

"So easy…" he says, and his voice is nearly soundless. "to sing the praises and virtues of one you've known but an instant. Surely then, your appraisal is of far greater value and accuracy than my own. One who has grown and lived with him for eons of your time."

"I know enough." Jane shoots back. "I'm a good judge of character."

Loki scoffs, turning away.

Jane barrels on.

"I was there." She says, not knowing where this newfound courage is coming from. Not really caring. "I was there when the Queen was killed."

Loki visibly stiffens, going frighteningly still.

"I saw her bravery. The way she fought back. And I know enough about Thor to know he got his courage from her. Which seems like more than you probably ever di…"

Abruptly, Loki is standing, so fast, she hadn't even registered the movement, and he is inches from her, hands reared back, as if ready to strike. His face is twisted in a scowl of such pure hatred and fury, that Jane feels her breath leave her, her voice choking out in a startled and terrified gasp, falling back, expecting the blow to land, to take her head off with it.

But it never comes.

Loki is stood there, frozen, glaring down at her, eyes alight and too clear in the dark.

"You know NAUGHT of what you speak!" He hisses. "Of the Queen, or of Thor, or of _me_. You will hold that tongue of yours, you insolent _whelp_, or I will tear it from your mouth and eat it whole myself. Do you understand?"

Jane nods frantically without even thinking, eyes wide and thick with unshed tears, her terror having forced them up in an instant.

She's sees the seriousness of his threat. She sees he would, no matter the consequences. No matter if Thor had threatened to kill him for harming her. He would do it.

"I… I'm sorry." She manages to stutter out. "I'm sorry."

He stares down at her a long moment, unmoving, expression the same, teeth bared in utter contempt.

Before at last, his stance relaxes, his arms dropping.

And he turns from her, stepping away.

She watches, silently, as he sinks to his knees, onto the frozen ground, very nearly slumping forward, head bowed.

"I think it best you return to Thor's side now." She hears him mutter, voice low and tired.

Again, Jane nods, though his back is to her, and without hesitation, she rises, eager to get away from him, back to the safety of Thor.

She begins to fumble with the clasp on his cloak, intending to give it back to him.

"Keep it." His voice stills her movements, and her head snaps up, gazing at his still sagging form. "You have greater need of it than I."

She is about to protest, to tell him it's his. But his voice again stops her.

"Frost Giants, after all, never feel the cold."

And then he falls silent, and Jane says nothing in return, simply stepping back, her eyes locked on him a few moments longer, before she hurries back, into the tent.

Back beside Thor, who hasn't moved an inch in her absence.

She hardly sleeps for the rest of the night, something sick and twisting weighing down in her stomach.

Something which feels too much like guilt.

/

**AN: As always, a huge thank you to all of my readers and reviewers. I appreciate you all so much. Apologies, again, for not getting back to all of you, but just know that I read every single one of your reviews, and treasure them. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, and thanks so much again!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

When dawn finally breaks, several hours later, Jane wakes to the sounds of soft shuffling and quiet movements somewhere ahead.

Her eyes crack slow open, sight bleary and unfocused for long seconds, some shifting shape before her, large and broad.

She blinks rapidly, and gradually, her vision clears, and she sees him, sees Thor, moving about the small space of the tent, gathering the few things they'd unpacked last night together.

It strikes her, the oddness of his quiet. Thor, who usually is so loud and _present_.

And she smiles slightly to herself, realizing he's trying to be quiet so as not to wake her. She doesn't know if she'll ever get over how _sweet _he is.

And then, unbidden, memories of the night before come flooding back to her, and the smile vanishes, and she finds herself consumed by questions of how it is Thor's brother could ever have come from the same place and turned out the way he is.

She remembers the sight of him, sinking to his knees, the violence and fury which had moments before thrummed so powerfully through him draining and vanished in a breath. A flash of explosive rage and then… the slumped form of resignation and defeat.

Jane feels a confusion over Loki. A kind she's unaccustomed to in people.

It was almost as if… before he became so frighteningly angry, before he threatened her so cruelly and without hesitation, she could almost have called him… _charming_?

Ignoring his constant jibes towards Thor, his conversation had even been almost pleasant.

She supposes she shouldn't be surprised.

It's often said sociopaths can be incredibly charismatic.

And if Loki is as skilled a liar as Thor has indicated, well, you'd have to be charming to pull that off.

It's an act, Jane concludes.

Everything _about _Loki is a lie, a mask.

The dejection and… sadness she saw in him last night, that must have been a façade, she's sure.

She can't trust him, and she reminds herself she'd do well to remember that.

But then… Thor seems so heavy with regret over Loki. And the way he's sometimes spoken about him, with a kind of thick, sentimental fondness and longing…

If Loki was always as caustic and cold as he is now, she doesn't understand how Thor could have ever mistook him for anything good.

And that's just the thing, isn't it? Thor says Loki, as a boy and as a younger man, had been entirely different. He says Loki had been _kind_, and sweet, and endlessly curious. Full of wit and charm and laughter.

Had found beauty in almost all things.

Jane finds herself having a difficult time reconciling that description with what she sees now.

She's startled from her thoughts when suddenly she hears Thor speak, having turned around, now facing her.

"You're awake." He says.

Jane slowly, stiffly lifts herself up, pushing a hand back through her tangled hair, still heavy with sleep.

She nods.

"Yeah." She says tiredly. "Morning."

She sees Thor's eyes sweep over her form, confused and uneasy.

"Why do you wear my brother's cloak?" He asks bluntly, voice thick with tension.

For a moment, Jane doesn't understand the question, her brain fogging.

And then, abruptly, she becomes aware of the comforting warmth across her shoulders and upper arms, and her eyes widen, glancing down over herself, seeing the thick, velvety deep green material, pooling over and around her.

"Oh…" she says dumbly. "Oh!"

Her mind scrambles, trying to come up with some excuse, some reason which doesn't sound absolutely _awful_.

She could tell him the truth.

But… she doesn't know how Thor will react, to hearing she sat outside with his psycho little brother last night and _spoke_ to him.

The tension between them is already palpable and cloying.

But she can't think of a convincing lie either. And besides that, she doesn't think Thor _deserves_ to be lied to.

"I, uh…" she starts, throat feeling tight.

She glances up at Thor, seeing him staring back at her with questioning, weary eyes.

She swallows.

"I couldn't sleep last night." She says, finally. "So I decided to get some fresh air, and…"

She looks away, suddenly fearful of his reaction.

"Loki was still awake, just sitting outside and… he, um, asked… asked if I would join him. So I said sure and I was… well, it was cold outside, and he offered me his cloak."

She shrugged helplessly, daring to glance back at the thunder god.

She can't tell whether Thor looks angry or not, which in itself scares her, since he's usually so easy to read.

The exact opposite of Loki.

He just stares back at her a long moment, saying nothing, face blank.

Before suddenly he shifts towards her, crouching down and taking her small hands in his giant ones.

"He did not harm you, did he?" He asks quietly.

Jane swallows, the memory of Loki threatening to _tear her tongue from her mouth_ flashing through her head, and slowly she shakes her head no.

"No, he… we just talked, and then I came back here and went back to sleep."

"You would tell me if he harmed or threatened you in any way, would you not Jane?" He presses, obviously concerned.

Guilt blooms in her chest as she nods.

Why the hell is she _protecting Loki_?

She has no doubt if she told Thor what Loki said to her last night, he would march out there right now and she more than likely would witness him beating the ever loving daylights out of the smaller god. And she thinks that might even deter Loki from making any similar threats towards her in the future. So why _not _tell Thor?

It's not like Loki wouldn't probably deserve it.

But…

She can't explain why the thought of seeing something like that bothers her so much.

Frightens her even…

She tells herself that if Thor beats Loki too badly, then they'll have lost their guide's ability to lead, and there's always the risk Loki would refuse to help them at all after that. And then they'd be stuck here.

That's what she tells herself, but…

He let her keep his cloak last night.

That was… a kindness, no matter the circumstances. He let her…

Almost unconsciously, she lifts her hands out of Thor's and pulls the cloak over her arms, feeling the soft material beneath the pads of her fingers.

"It's always warm…" she says softly, unable to keep the hint of awe from her voice.

When she looks back to the thunder god, she sees a vague smile tugging at the corners of his lips, almost sad.

He nods.

"Aye." He says quietly. "I remember the day Loki came back from Alfheim with that cloak in hand. It has been many centuries past since then."

Jane's eyes go slightly wide at the revelation.

"Really?" She asks, shocked.

Again he nods.

"Loki had had it commissioned specially by the finest tailor of the Realm at the time and went to claim it upon its completion. It is as fine craftsmanship as you will find in such an article. But the enchantment on it is his own. He spelled it to keep its wearer warm always, in all conditions. There were many times he and I found ourselves in Jotunheim, when I would be near frozen to death, and he would give it to me to wear…"

His voice trails off, and he looks away, face dropping in memory.

"I have little doubt I would not have made it through some of those early ventures had he not been there and done so."

Jane watches him a moment, feeling her heart sink at the sight of his own pain, and without thinking, she reaches out, taking gentle hold of his thick wrist.

He looks back to her.

She frowns.

"I'm sorry Thor." She whispers.

He smiles weakly back, reaching up, cupping her cheek in his calloused palm, nodding once.

"It is well, Jane." He says. "It is well."

/

When at last she and Thor emerge, Jane spots Loki a few dozen yards away. He is crouched down, bound hands braced against the hard ground. His head is turned away from them and cocked slightly, and he is incredibly still, as though he's listening for something.

Jane finds herself wondering if he had slept at all last night.

His skin looks even more pale in the muted morning light of the place, contrasted sharply with the raven black of his long hair.

"What's he doing?" Jane asks absently as Thor begins taking down the tent and packing it away.

Thor turns, glancing at Jane a moment before his eyes move to his brother.

"Mapping our course." He says.

Jane turns to look at him.

And Thor goes on.

"Loki has long since been among the finest hunters in Asgard." He says. "His intuitive sense of the land and detail for tracking is second to only a rare few, though it isn't a skill he has ever been well acknowledged for. He is gifted, but Loki has never enjoyed the hunt as many of us have."

He nods towards his brother, still crouched, unmoving.

"He tells me an army of some three hundred passed through here perhaps four days previous. Likely Maliketh's retreating forces."

Jane's eyes go wide, body rigid.

"Three hundred?" She breaths in a whisper. "H… how can he tell?" She glances nervously back to Loki, whose head is now turned the other way, looking out over the distance.

"The displacement of the ground." Thor answers. "It is an estimate on his part, but likely accurate. They are headed towards their stronghold in the main city."

"We won't…" she begins, feeling suddenly dizzy with anxiety.

Thor shakes his head, already knowing what she intends to ask.

"They are likely already to the city. We will not encounter them."

"But," she says, voice wavering. "Loki said last night that we'd probably run into warriors before we get there. He said even today maybe."

Thor nods.

"Aye. Loki speaks true. There are many units patrolling these lands. It is a certainty we will encounter groups of them before our quest reaches its end."

For a long moment, Jane only looks to the ground. She feels herself winding tight with anxiety, and she nods stiffly, unsure of how else to respond.

And then she feels Thor's giant, rough hands, cupping her cheeks gently, lifting her face to him.

He smiles at her softly.

"Jane, I will let no harm befall you." He promises. "I swear it."

She forces herself to smile back.

She trusts Thor.

She _does_.

But this situation… she can't help feeling it's beyond even his control.

She can't…

"We should move out."

Jane gasps at the voice suddenly beside them, turning with widened eyes, and staring up at the expressionless face of Thor's younger brother.

Jesus, she hadn't even _heard_ him walk up!

Loki's eyes flash briefly to her, seemingly unaffected by her shocked response, before looking back to Thor.

"If we wish to make any substantial progress in the next, few days, assuming your mortal tires as quickly as she did yesterday,"

Again, he glances at Jane, clear resentment etched into his features now.

Jane glances away, suddenly embarrassed.

"we should not waste our time here dallying." Loki finishes, voice cold and clipped.

Thor's face twists in a scowl.

"You will show Jane the proper respect, brother." He demands sharply.

Loki's expression affects only boredom.

"No disrespect, Thor." Loki says quietly, turning away and beginning to gather what few of their items remain scattered about the put out fire pit. "Just a simple stating of facts."

He turns again, handing the gathered cups and tins to the elder god, before once more facing back, beginning to move away, towards where they're meant to go.

It is a few, long seconds later, that both she and Thor realize Loki has already resumed their journey, and the two of them scramble behind, pulling their belongings together in haste before running after to catch up.

/

They are perhaps an hour and a half in to their trek when it happens.

Both Thor and Loki freeze near simultaneously, standing and stiffening, heads cocked aside, as though they've both heard something Jane cannot.

She feels herself wanting to ask what's going on. The words on her tongue, mouth falling open to speak.

But what happens next comes with such swiftness, all words and thoughts die instantly within her, and all she has time for anymore is feeling. Sheer, consuming panic and sickening fear.

She feels a crushing grip round her shoulder, long, thin fingers which shouldn't be near as powerful as they feel, digging into her flesh.

It's Loki, and he's shouting in her face to get down, an instant later tossing her to the ground like she's nothing.

She hits it, hard, the breath knocking from her lungs, leaving her gasping and desperate.

Violence explodes around her.

What seems from all sides, a group of what looks like the same creatures which had attacked Asgard come pouring in, towards them. Dozens upon dozens of them.

They're screaming, all of them, the sound deafening in its intensity, and without thinking, Jane's hands shoot up, covering her ears in horrified terror, eyes wide as she takes in the sight around her.

Thor is bellowing back, his hammer already in hand, swinging it in a wide arc at the oncoming attackers.

Jane sees the weapon pass through several of them as though they aren't there at all, before finally colliding with a solid form.

The elf drops instantly like a bag of bones. He doesn't get back up, and there's _blood_. _So much_ blood, and Jane feels sick.

Loki is screaming something at Thor, but she can't make out the words, too much noise around her, the sound of metal and tearing and screaming and _chaos_. And Thor doesn't seem to hear either, too busy swinging at… at _nothing_. His hammer keeps going _through _these things.

And then Loki is ducking, coming up and smashing his elbows into the face of an elf, shattering the creature's nose and dropping him near as effectively as Thor's hammer had that first one.

Jane sees the younger god dash off towards a thicket of trees, and she thinks this is it, that he's abandoning her and Thor, to be killed by these horrible beings, and with that thought, anger blooms inside her chest, and hatred.

She feels betrayed, and she doesn't even know why.

It's not like Loki ever promised her anything, ever _owed_ her anything.

She thinks to get up, to move. To do _something_. She can't just sit here and watch Thor get killed the way she did his mother. She _can't_.

But she feels paralyzed to the spot, unable to will herself to action, thinking even if she were able to, there would be nothing… nothing she could do.

Useless.

Useless, weak.

A burden, just like Loki said.

Just like…

Her eyes stay fixed on the trickster god, watching as a literal horde of elves chase after him, running him into the trees.

She sees him drop to his knees, sliding forward from his momentum, narrowly missing the swing of a sword aimed at the line of his neck, the attacking elf losing his balance and falling forward, nearly toppling onto Loki before the god rolls, moving out of the way.

Jane sees him come up onto his knees, and then to his feet in one, swift motion, impossibly graceful. And then her eyes are widening in disbelief, as she sees him plunge his still bound hands into the earth at the base of a thick, tall tree, and a moment later, he's _tearing_ the thing up by its roots. The whole _fucking thing_, and this just _isn't _possible.

But it isn't stopping, this impossible feat of strength, a roar of effort tearing from Loki's lips as he uproots the thing entirely, and he's then taking hold of it, fingers breaking through the thick bark, cracking and crushing into the wood beneath.

And then he's lifting the god damned thing up, a tree at least thirty feet in height and six or seven feet in width, and Jesus fucking Christ, the thing must weight ten or fifteen tons, and he's picking it up into the air like it's a _twig_.

But he'd looked so _weak_. When she'd seen him before, so thin and wasted away.

And brutally, Jane is again reminded that they aren't _human_, these two men she's with.

They aren't even close, not even _remotely_.

She feels a kind of awe inspiring fear then, as she watches him use the tree, a fucking _tree_, like it's a staff, swinging it at his attackers, crushing them back and away from him.

And then he's running with the thing, back out of the woods, in Thor's direction, ducking and maneuvering around an onslaught of elves, swinging only occasionally, knocking them aside.

He's back at Thor's side in a moment, and it scarcely registers to Jane that he hasn't left them, that he's fighting _alongside _Thor, too overcome by her disbelief at what she's seeing.

"Thor!" She hears him scream. "They're using duplicates! But their siedr is weak and clumsily wielded. Their constructs lack solidity. _Pay attention_! You're wasting your energy swinging Mjolnir at nothing. There are only sixteen actual warriors surrounding us."

But again, it seems Thor is hardly paying attention, throwing his hammer, the thing zipping through air and straight through the figure before him before being called back and slapping with a loud thud into the palm of his hand.

Loki growls in frustration, dropping down as a staff is swung at his head, spinning the tree about as he comes back up and smashing it into his attacker, throwing the elf back some sixty plus feet.

"Thor!" He yells out again, turning to the thunder god, cracking the tree's trunk against another incoming elf before tossing the thing aside completely.

Jane watches it sail through the air, crashing and landing atop a group of three elves, pinning them, at least momentarily, to the hard ground.

Loki thrusts his bound wrists out towards Thor.

"Undo the fetter!" Loki demands, voice urgent. "I can end this in a matter of seconds if you just…"

Thor swings, finally catching one of the elves, crushing his skull in with a sickening squelch before, at last, he turns to his little brother.

His expression for a moment seems to be considering, unsure as he glances down at Loki's outreached hands.

"THOR!" Loki screams in his face, voice thick with impatience. "NOW!"

And finally, Thor reaches back, fingers quickly undoing the binds, pulling it away from thin, bruised wrists.

The moment he does, there is an eruption of blindingly bright, white light, tinged green at its edges, Jane thinks, before she has to turn away completely, eyes shutting against the burning glare.

There is a crushing wave of sound and wind, blowing her back several feet, landing her unceremoniously on her face, and when she finally recovers herself, once more robbed of her breath, she turns, her eyes blown wide as she sees the mischief god, standing back to back with Thor, blasts of what looks like pure, green and white light, shooting from the tips of his fingers, blasting back wave upon wave of elves, most of them disintegrating into what seems thin air, leaving only perhaps a dozen or so left, most of them thrown off their feet, struggling to get back up.

And then she sees Loki pulling from nowhere what looks like daggers or some kind of throwing… blades, glittering and horrifyingly sharp, reflecting off the muted light of the sun. And he's throwing them, with so much force and precision, she can scarcely follow the movement of it, seeing only the result, the knives burying in the throats and chests and eyes of half a dozen of the remaining elves, downing them instantly, keeping them there.

Jane is frozen, eyes fixed and intent and shocked on the display before her.

Thor throws his hammer, taking out four more of the creatures, their heads literally tearing from their shoulders, their dead bodies dropping to the ground as the hammer makes its return flight to its owners hand.

Two more knives thrown, two more elves killed, and then Jane sees a shadow fall across her, and her insides freeze in dread as she turns, her mouth falling open in a scream as she sees one of them standing above her, face twisted in insanity and bloodlust.

The thing is at least a foot taller than Thor himself, thin as a wisp, hands raised above it, gripped round the hilt of a broad, heavy sword…

Ready to bring it down upon her head and crack it in two.

The scream never makes it past her lips.

There is another flash of brilliant, blinding light, directly behind the elf, and suddenly, Loki is standing there, and he moves so fast. So, so fast.

He is on the elf before the creature can so much as make another move, reaching out and grabbing hold of his arms, tearing him back.

Long, thin fingers grasp around dark blue wrists, crushing, and the elf screams in agonized pain, even as his own fingers come undone round the hilt of his weapon, dropping it, and with terrifying violence, Loki hardens his grip, the nauseating sound of bones breaking filling the air. And he's jerking the elf's arms down, the screams pitching higher, and there is the sound of tearing flesh and sinew and muscle.

And then Loki is kicking the creatures feet out from under him, bringing him to his knees, and in the next instant, he is gripping the sides of the elf's head, long, long fingers burying into white hair, and with one, seemingly effortless move, he twists it hard to the left, all the way, until it is turned near a full half circle. There is a horrifying crunching noise, and then nothing.

Loki lets go, the elf dropping, dead and twisted to the ground before Jane.

She stares a moment at the disfigured thing which had, just moments before, been poised to take her head off.

She feels numb, uncomprehending.

Somewhere, she thinks she hears Thor's voice, calling out her name in panic and thick with fear.

Her eyes lift, and she sees him there. Loki. Staring down at her with unreadable features. Face blank.

He is covered in blood, splatters of it across his pale skinned cheeks and hands and across the front of his armor.

He says nothing, eyes burning and bright and too, too green.

Jane turns, and for the second time since this all began, she throws up onto the ground beneath her hands and knees.

/

**AN: So, just a note about Loki's epic display of strength. Loki is ranked in the Marvel universe as a class 50 strength level, which means he can lift about 50 tons. So, I figured a tree wouldn't pose much of a problem for him. **

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed, and as always, your reviews and support are HUGELY appreciated. Let me know what you thought, and thank you so much again!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

It takes her several minutes to recover from the shock. From the paralyzing fear and certainty that she was going to die, only to be saved by the last person she _ever _expected such from.

Loki hasn't been kind to her since, turning and walking away after she'd begun expunging her insides onto the ground, _again_.

Jane doesn't have a clue why she feels so _embarrassed _over it.

It's not like she cares, or _should_ care, what someone like Loki thinks of her.

It's just… the way he _looks _at her sometimes…

Thor is with her now, bent down beside her on his great knees, large hand pressed against her back, rubbing soothing circles through the material of her shirt. His other hand holds her hair back from her face, telling her softly that it's alright. That she's alright.

After seeing Loki rip that tree out of the ground and wield it like it was nothing more than a stick, she finds herself wondering how the hell it is Thor is able to be so gentle. With _that_ kind of strength running through his veins.

She would think he would crush her, if through nothing but pure accident.

Like a tiger accidentally killing its trainer, thinking they were another tiger.

She's sure Thor is even stronger than Loki. He _has_ to be.

He's told her that Loki is considered physically weak amongst the Aesir. Smaller and less substantial than most of them.

But she can't even imagine what that must mean. What the rest of them can _do_, if that's the case.

And for the first time, irrational as it is, she feels a certain kind of _fear _of Thor. She knows he would never intentionally hurt her, but still…

Loki is standing several feet away, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. He looks like he's thinking. About what, Jane has no idea, and won't even bother trying to decipher it.

Every few moments, she sees him glance towards them, expression, as always, blank to her.

But it strikes her suddenly, how apart he seems.

How alone.

Several minutes more pass, until Jane begins to feel herself calm and recover, and she tells Thor she's alright now.

Thor asks several times if she's sure, and Jane just keeps nodding, saying "yeah".

Finally, the thunder god seems to accept the answer, and he stands, helping Jane to her feet as he does so.

She sees Loki stiffen, standing straighter, more rigid.

And then Thor is making his way towards the younger god, pulling the fetter from his belt as he approaches.

Loki scowls, stepping back, eyes fixed hard on him.

"Loki, put your hands out." Thor commands, the implication of his intent clear.

Again, Loki steps back, face twisting further.

"Thor, no." He says. "You must see the folly of binding me in this place. It is too dangerous."

Thor's expression is apparent in its lack of patience, and he shakes his head briskly, frown deep.

"_You_ are too dangerous, brother. I cannot allow you to walk about freely with access to your magic. I promised to undo your binds when the need arises, and I did."

Loki's eyes narrow in anger.

"Only after I implored for you to do so several times!" He spits, voice thick with disgust. "And only after you saw your inert ineffectiveness against the elves and their magic. You are beyond your _depth_ here, Odinson! You need my magic readily available if we are to make it to the city hale and whole."

Again, Thor shakes his head, taking a step closer.

"No, Loki. You know the arrangement, and I will not be persuaded by your manipulations."

Loki's mouth drops open in disbelief.

"_Manipulations_?" He asks. "I fail to see how this qualifies as such when I merely state an obvious truth!"

"Loki, do not make me force you to comply with the agreement between us!" Thor's voice rises threateningly, again taking a step towards his brother. "I will not hesitate should you do so."

"You mean you harbor no _qualms_ taking advantage of yet another opportunity to cow and humiliate me before those you wish to impress?" Loki snaps back, voice pitching slightly higher.

There is a pain there, Jane thinks. Something she hasn't quite yet heard before, like some long standing complaint, and it makes her heart clench unpleasantly.

"Your delusions continue in their grandiosity Loki. I have _never _wished to humiliate you."

Loki chokes out what might be a laugh.

"Indeed, not?" He asks incredulously, as though what Thor says is nothing but a ridiculous joke. "Well, I did not say it was your specific desire to do so, Thor. Only that your regard for me has been so little that you have never once thought twice of using me as a tool to raise up the heights of your own self-proclaimed honor and glory. It has, after all, been ever a simple thing, to make ones self appear great when faced against an opponent weak as _I_. Oh, but do not take my word for it, brother. Ask any number of your stalwart friends, and surely they will regale you of the countless times they took to challenging me upon the practice fields in a sure attempt to impress upon others their own skill as warriors. Look! See how easily I dispose of a _Prince_ of the most powerful Realm in all the nine! And then recall for yourself, Odinson, all the times you said the same!"

Thor's features drain fast of what little patience they had left.

"ENOUGH!" He roars. "Loki, I will not ask you again! Hold out your hands!"

He takes another, threatening stop forward, and Loki's lip curls, stance rigid with the readiness of a fight.

"Thor, wait!"

The thunder god freezes, and Loki's frame winds only tighter, eyes flashing away from the elder Prince and finding Jane, stepping towards them.

Thor turns, staring down at her, confused.

"Just wait." She repeats, softer now. "Leave it off him. He's right."

Thor turns fully towards her then, straightening, frown heavy across his lips.

"Jane," He starts. "you do not know what he is capable of when loosed. I cannot allow…"

"But he's _right _Thor." Jane cuts him off sharply.

For a moment, her eyes move to Loki, and she sees him staring at her with unhidden suspicion and terrifying assessment. He's looking for something in her, and it forces her gaze away, back to Thor.

"He saved our asses just now. Whatever these guys have, magic or whatever the hell you want to call it, your brother's the only one who seems to know how to counter it. If you tie him up again the way he was before, who's to say we'll have the time to free him next time we're attacked? By then, it might be too late."

"But…"

"No Thor." Again, she cuts him short. "Listen, you dragged me out here on this thing, so I think that qualifies me to have a say in what happens. I don't trust him anymore than you do, but what other choice do we have? Without him, we're sitting ducks out here. That much is obvious. I was almost just _killed_ and he _saved_ me. I have no idea why, but he _did_. We need his voodoo crap whatever to fight these guys! And I'm not willing to die out here because of whatever ridiculous spat you two have going on between you!"

She steps closer to the thunderer then, staring determinedly up at him, refusing to yield.

She has no idea where her sudden moxy is coming from. Maybe that's what near death experiences will do for you, she thinks grimly.

"Just… let him go." She says. "It's what we need."

For a long moment, Thor only looks back at her, silent, clear eyes considering and thoughtful, and again, Jane is reminded of why she is so taken with this man.

It's a ridiculous notion, that a being of his power and rank and standing would even take _notice _of her, a lowly human girl of no particular importance or relevance within her own world, let alone his.

But he does, and he's thinking about what she's just said now, giving it value.

And she hardly finds herself surprised when at last, he nods, and tells her she's right. Or when he apologizes to her for being so blind and arrogant.

She is taken with his compassion and generosity, smiling and struck silly by the charm of him.

And so she nearly misses it, when Loki storms past them without a word, continuing on ahead.

Apart…

… And alone.

/

_He hangs from the ceiling by manacles, thick, metal cuffs round his ankles, digging unrelentingly into already blackened, bruised skin. He is stretched out, his arms pulled past his head, bound to the floor beneath by the same sort of bind, these round his too thin wrists._

_Logically, he can tell himself the reason for why they have him bound so, upside down. It's to keep him disoriented. Confused. The same reason they have a blindfold over his eyes, and a gag stretched taught past his teeth and pulled too tight round the back of his head._

_The same way he can tell himself they have him stripped naked as a means of humiliation._

_Logically, he knows all these things._

_But logic does little to temper the effectiveness of such tactics._

_Loki is scared._

_Though he does his best to hide the fact._

_The same as he struggles not to react, not to flinch when he hears the slice of the whip through the air, or to cry out when it falls and tears across his exposed, raw and bleeding back._

_The gag helps only marginally in suppressing the screams which want to force their way up his throat. Instead, they come out as pathetic whimpers. And there is little he can do for the tears which spring unbidden to his eyes and slip down his face._

_The pain is too much._

_He has tried escaping. Tried using his magic. But the cuffs which hold him are enchanted, designed to repress his own power. Work, Loki knows, which could only have been crafted by the hand of another, powerful sorcerer._

_And that, he thinks, is what frightens him most of all._

_For a sorcerer of this skill, he knows, will know how to hurt another._

_He hears the whip crack, and then the searing agony of it across his back for the dozinth time in the last, few minutes. He tries choking down the pitiful groan which forces its way past his lips, and shame burns his cheeks as the slow flow of saliva dribbles past the corners of his mouth. The taste of copper coats his swollen tongue, washing down his throat, and nausea threatens to make him vomit._

_Two times more, the whip comes down, and then there is the sound of a door opening, somewhere ahead of him, creaking loud and jarring on its hinges._

_The torture pauses, if only for a moment. But still, Loki can feel his body grow slack with the relief of it. Ripping sharp pain subsides into a duller throbbing ache through him._

_Oh, Gods… he wishes he could pass out._

_And then, abruptly, the blindfold is torn from his eyes, and then the gag._

_He blinks rapidly, and then clamps his lids shut, the sudden influx of light after two days of darkness blinding him, searing his retinas. _

_It takes nearly a minute before he is able to ease into the unwelcome brightness, his lids cracking open slowly. And at first, he is met with nothing but blurred shapes, out of focus and indistinguishable. _

_Until eventually, his vision begins to clear, and he sees before him a being unlike any he has ever laid eyes on._

_An Elf, to be certain. But there is, very apparently, something not normal about him._

_He is no dark Elf. But nor is he light. The longer Loki gazes at him, trying to make sense of what he sees, the more unnerved he becomes._

_For he senses the two races in the one being before him, skin split and bleeding into the two tones of each kind, and by all laws of nature, such a thing should not be possible._

_It is a well known truth throughout the Nine Realms that Dark Elves are incapable of mating with Light, and the same is true in turn for the other. _

_What Loki sees before him should not be possible._

_But there it is, all the same, and the evidence of black magic seizes his heart and grips it in deadening pressure._

_He swallows back bile and blood and spit, forcing his features into a mask of impassivity. He says nothing, and the creature before him smiles._

_And Loki feels fear anew. _

"_Hello there, little Prince." The Elf speaks._

_Still, the god does not answer, keeping his eyes ahead and focused._

_He can see in this creatures eyes he seeks pleasure in fear. He can see the desire for it in those sharp, pale blue eyes. To cause it in his captive._

_He stares at Loki like he is prey, and Loki feels distinctly the part then._

_He refuses to show it._

_But when the Elf reaches out, towards his face, the god cannot help the way he flinches violently away, turning his head._

_It gains him little though, as his chin is seized, and his face is brought back forward._

_The Elf's smile stretches to a grin, revealing a row of sharp, crooked teeth._

"_My, but you are young." He says, leaning closer, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "I would say four, perhaps five centuries? No more than a child still."_

_Finally, he releases his grip, and instinctively, Loki turns his head away again._

_The Elf tisks._

"_Too young, really, to be fighting such battles as the one we pulled you from. The Aesir though… such barbarians, sending their children to war."_

"… _What do you want with me?" Loki finally manages to find his voice, the question coming out a rough whisper, his voice hoarse and weak from the past two days of screaming and no water._

_The Elf continues smiling, stepping back and clasping his hands together. Long, razor sharp nails adorn each finger._

"_So blunt!" He exclaims. "And here I'd heard tales of your silver tongue and cunning wit!" He laughs, and Loki flinches at the grating noise._

"_Well, no matter…" the creature goes on after a moment. "though stories of your intelligence may be exaggerated, rumor of the power you hold within you is _not_."_

_Once more, he reaches out, long, thin fingers tickling along Loki's cheek, before shifting down, into his hair, massaging against his scalp in some parody of kindness._

"_You are a very _gifted _young man, Loki, Prince of Asgard." He says. "I have not sensed such strong magical energy in a being so young since I myself was a boy. But you… _you_ hold a power greater even than my own! Even being the youngling you are, and with such clumsy technique as you yet possess, you were able to single handedly take out a quarter of my forces. It is simply extraordinary!"_

_Loki's eyes narrow, and again, he attempts to jerk his head away from the Elf's touch._

"_So you desire my energy?" He accuses. "You cannot have it. Any sorcerer of skill would know that you cannot harness the power of another. It is too closely bound to its owner. Even if you were to siphon it off and take it into yourself, it would rebel against you and likely destroy you."_

_The Elf smiles yet again._

"_I see you are well learned, little Prince." He replies, seemingly unfazed. "And yes, you are correct in what you say. But…"_

_He pauses, finally letting the god go, stepping back._

"_Well," he continues. "let me explain to you who I am. I am named Malekith, known throughout the Nine Realms as the Accursed, in acknowledgement of my many successful conquests, one of which I was in the process of achieving upon Alfheim before the Realm of the _gods_ decided to intervene, bringing _you_ with them."_

_He steps back, regarding Loki closely a moment._

"_Hmm." He smiles. "And what an interesting discovery you have proven. Oh, yes, all have heard rumor of Asgard's second, _weaker_ Prince. One with a gift for magic, if not for battle. So imagine my surprise then, to see it was this selfsame boy who all but by himself was driving my army back from their purpose. I just had to see it for myself. And indeed, the strength of your seidr is something to behold."_

_Loki grits his teeth, growing angry and frustrated._

"_Cease this prattling and tell me what it is you seek!" He spits, impatient and reckless._

_He is a Prince, and he is unused to being dragged along except by Thor._

"_I wish for you to join me." Malekith answers quickly and without hesitation. "With your power and my knowledge, we could prove an unstoppable force. The Nine Realms could be ours for the taking! Even the might of Asgard itself would fall before us!"_

_For a moment, Loki's eyes go wide in incredulousness, words lost to him._

_This must be some sort of jest, he thinks. Some manner of sick and twisted humor._

"_You speak madly." He replies after a moment, working to keep his voice steady._

_Malekith laughs._

"_Hardly." He replies easily. _

_Loki shakes his head, the strands of his black hair damp with sweat and blood._

"_You think I would betray my own home? My own family?" He asks, unable to keep the astonishment from his tone._

_And Malekith's lips spread only into a wide grin at that._

"_There are rumors too, little Prince," he begins, smoothly, voice soft. "of the regard you receive at the hands of the other gods."_

_He steps closer, leaning down until he is near eye level with the trickster, and Loki notices with a start, suddenly, how very tall this Elf is. In the least a foot taller than himself, and intimidation blooms unwanted within his chest._

"_They do not appreciate your gifts, as I would." Malekith says, smiling, reaching a hand up and cupping his palm gently against Loki's cheek, caressing the skin almost soothingly._

"_They spurn you, do they not? Ridicule you and call you argr?"_

_He leans closer, until his lips are beside the god's ear._

"Hate you_, even?" He whispers._

_And Loki jerks away, turning his face and clamping his eyes tight, as though that will make disappear the despair which suddenly takes vicious hold of his heart. Keep the suffocating loneliness he feels every day from bubbling suddenly and horrifyingly to the surface, threatening to consume him whole. _

_Keep the woe of his memories at bay. _

_The laughter ringing in his ears as he's thrown to the ground and so easily disarmed by Sif. _

_The feel of his cheeks flushing and burning bright with the humiliation of being asked which maidens he's bedded, and having no stories to share. For no maiden had ever yet approached him. Ugly as he is. And he is too shy to ask, knowing already they will only laugh._

_The pain of never being chosen by the others in games of teams, and left behind by Thor, learning from Mother that he's taken the Warriors three and Sif on a hunt. Being told he is too small, too weak, too young to join them. _

_Told he is not good enough. _

_Never good enough. _

_Never..._

"_Will you not join me?" Malekith's voice breaks through his churning thoughts. "Will you not take the respect which should only rightly be accorded to someone of your standing and talent, but which is so unjustly denied you instead? Will you not make those simpering, ungrateful fools pay for their arrogance and entitlement?"_

_Loki feels his thumb brush tenderly against the skin of his cheek, and he feels a sickening dread spread through his stomach._

"_Join me, and you will have all you have ever desired, little Prince."_

_Loki jerks his head away again, and then he turns, spitting right in Malekith's face._

"_Go to Hel!" He hisses._

_And in an instant, the Elf's features twist in disgusted rage, and without further warning, he backhands Loki as hard as he can, across the mouth, twisting his head almost fully to the side, fresh blood spreading over his tongue as his teeth cut into the flesh of his cheek._

"_Impudent child!" Malekith rages. _

_In an instant, he has the god's jaw, held firm in his grip, squeezing painfully._

"_You know not who you trifle with!" He goes on in a fury. "I will make you regret the day you were born! The day you dared defy _me_!"_

_And suddenly, there is a surge of white hot agony, coursing through Loki's skull, what feels like through his very brain, and he feels the cold press of Malekith's palm, flat against his chest, and a rush of burning energy is at once flowing into him._

_It feels as though his insides are turning to liquid, his very blood boiling inside his veins._

_Unbidden, a scream both of terror and suffering tears from his lips, and he hasn't even the time to think of stifling it, so engulfed is he by the wretched sensations working through him, tears springing and building thick in his eyes, streaming down his face._

_He can taste more blood, and feels it then, dripping from his nose._

_Malekith sneers at him in hatred._

"_I possess a knowledge of the dark arts you NEVER shall, you worthless cur!" He hisses. "I will undo you from the inside out, until you _beg _for me to end your life, you pathetic, weakling _boy_!"_

_The pain grows impossibly worse, and another cry rips from Loki's throat, echoing off the walls, and he thinks please… please… he wants his Father… he wants he Mother… he wants Thor…_

_Oh gods, gods, please, somebody…_

_But nobody comes._

_And the pain devours him, until mercifully, the world fades to black._

After a hard day of travel, Jane finds herself unable to sleep that night.

She thinks for the bizarre sight of seeing Loki asleep across from her, all the way at the other side of the tent. But still, he is there, lying across the grass covered ground.

And he does not sleep easy.

He twitches and turns and what she thinks are soft moans escape past his lips every few moments, quiet and pained and lost.

He must be dreaming, and she wonders what about.

Whatever it is, it keeps him from rest, and she knows from that his mind must be filled with something hard.

And she finds herself unsettled by such a revelation.

That anything at all troubles this violent, cold man.

She continues to watch him, there in the dark, hearing his rich voice mutter incoherently in a whisper, seeing in the shadows the planes of his elegantly structured face fold and pull in tortured expressions.

And he looks so different, so unlike the blank, unreadable person he is in waking.

He looks so… young.

A boy of no more than 21 or 22.

And yet Thor has told her he and his brother are both thousands of years old.

She can hardly conceive of it.

Her thoughts are broken abruptly and harshly as a sudden, sharp gasp erupts past the mischief god's lips, and he rockets up violently, eyes huge and shot wide.

Jane flinches at the unexpected movement and sound, her heart hammering in her chest, managing just to keep herself still as she continues watching him.

Even in the night, she can see the sweat glistening off of his porcelain skin, torso shirtless and exposed, and she wonders at it for the cold of the air pressing in around them.

His chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate, and she sees his hand come up against it, pressing flat, his breath coming out in an almost rasping wheeze.

Behind her, Thor doesn't even stir.

For nearly a minute, she keeps watching, Loki seemingly oblivious to her doing so, too concentrated on calming himself down.

And then, at once, he seems to stiffen, and his head turns, sharp and fast in her direction, too bright eyes fixing on her.

Jane just barely manages to close her own before he sees her looking back, and she feels a shot of fear work through her, pooling in the pit of her stomach.

She can hear her heart pounding in her ears now, the heat of his gaze heavy upon her, and she prays he didn't notice, didn't realize what she'd been doing.

Futile as those prayers seem to her.

Loki, she doesn't think, is the sort to ever miss anything.

She waits what seems forever, holding herself as still as she can.

And then she hears the rustling of fabric, and a barely audile grunt, and she dares to slit her eyes open the barest amount, seeing him then, turned away from her, struggling to his feet.

And the sight is in such stark contrast to the strength and power she had seen him execute earlier that same day.

It takes him several tries before he is able to push himself up, and she sees him standing there, his back to her a long moment, a visible tremor working through his frame, before at last, he steps forward, towards the tents exit.

He makes it two steps before what strength he has seems to give out on him completely, and with a groan, he collapses suddenly to his knees.

Jane doesn't even think about it before instinct has her sitting up and reaching out, and saying…

"Are you alright?"

She realizes a moment too late what she's just done, and freezes in terror, even as she sees him stiffen and still.

For long, torturous moments, silence fills the space, and he doesn't reply.

She doesn't think he will.

But then, his soft voice filters through the air and comes to her ears.

"… Perfectly well." He says, not bothering to turn. "You need not concern yourself Ms. Foster."

That's about as obvious an untruth as she's likely to ever see from him, she thinks, watching as his thin shoulders tremble.

She swallows, shifting slightly where she sits.

"Are… a-are you sure?" She asks, keeping her voice hushed. "I… I saw you, I mean, I heard you sleeping and it seemed like…"

"Spare your pity for one in want and need of it Ms. Foster." He cuts her off abruptly, voice cold and sharp. "Waste it not on me. Such is not for those of my ilk."

"I… I'm sorry." She stammers awkwardly, taken off guard by his aggressive response. "I didn't mean…"

Her voice trails off as her eyes adjust better to the dark, and she sees, in the soft beam of moonlight which filters through the tents fold, falling across the god's exposed back…

Jesus Christ…

Jesus _Christ_…

Raised lines, scar tissue formed from what she can only assume were severe whippings. Dozens upon dozens of them, crisscrossing and overlapping upon each other.

She doesn't understand.

She's seen his naked back before, and she saw none of that, saw nothing…

She can't help the small gasp which escapes her throat, her hand coming to her mouth.

Nor her voice, as she whispers out in shocked dismay…

"Your back…"

And again, she sees him go rigid.

And then very quickly, he is again pushing himself to his feet, fighting to stay standing.

Moments pass in silence.

And then he says…

"Aye. _My back_."

He sounds resigned, defeated.

Once more, she swallows thickly, her throat dry.

"… What… what happened?" She hears herself ask, her mind shouting at her to stop, unable still to help her morbid curiosity.

For several, long seconds, she receives no response.

And then she hears him laugh, the sound bitter and contemptuous.

"Many things." He says. "Many things have _happened_."

Jane pauses, dread filling her gut.

"… You were whipped?" She asks, knowing the question is absurd.

"Heh." He snorts. "Aye. Many times."

…

"By who?"

"… Everyone."

His voice is a whisper.

"Everyone?" Jane questions, not understanding.

She sees him nod.

"Yes." He says. "All in the Nine, Ms. Foster. All in the Nine have, in some fashion or other, had their way with me. Elves and dwarves and gods and _giants_."

He turns to her then, face looking back over his shoulder, and she feels her eyes go wide in horror.

He smiles at her, and his lips, oh God, his lips…

Around them the skin is gnarled and twisted in hideous scarring, half a dozen healed over wounds each along the upper and lower.

Jane thinks she may very well be sick for a third time in front of him, before he turns away.

And as he pulls the flap to the tent back, she hears him say, very softly…

"A good night to you, Ms. Foster."

And then he's gone. And she knows, for her this night, his parting words are to be an impossibility.

/

**AN: Sorry for the late update guys! I was out of town and didn't get a chance to post this. Anyway, hope you enjoy anyway, and as always, thank you to everyone who's supported me thus far!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Thor watches Jane from across the space, drawing the strings of his sack tight.

Her own eyes are fixed ahead, unseeing on some indistinct spot. She doesn't notice him studying her, and he frowns deeply.

"Something troubles you." He states finally, and it takes a moment before she seems to hear him.

Her head snaps up, eyes dazed as they find him.

"Hmm?" She asks.

"You are distracted Jane, and distant since you woke. What ails your thoughts?"

A long moment passes, where still it seems her mind is trying to catch up to his words. And then she glances away, seemingly embarrassed.

"That obvious, huh?" She asks.

Thor smiles thinly.

"I am not so dense as some might have you believe." He answers.

She smiles back, glancing at him a moment before her eyes flit away again.

"I know." She says softly, falling silent once more.

Thor watches her a second longer, before dropping his pack and moving closer.

"Jane," he pushes, kneeling down at her side once he reaches her. "tell me what the matter is."

He reaches out, taking hold of her hand, grasping it gently.

She looks up at him, and he sees a kind of nervous upset in her eyes that he can't understand, or place.

Is it because of what happened yesterday? The attack from the marauders?

"Jane?"

"I saw Loki wake up last night." She blurts out suddenly.

Thor's expression immediately grows concerned, and confused.

"From… from a nightmare, I guess." Jane goes on. "He just… shot up and was breathing hard and…"

Her voice trails off as Thor's features seem to soften, and he nods vaguely.

"Loki has ever suffered night terrors." He says. "As a child, he used to come to my chambers at night, seeking comfort from the dreams he had." He smiles faintly at the memory, his lips quickly falling though as he goes on. "But it has been long centuries since he has shared what dreams plague him with me. I do not know the things which haunt him now."

Jane's own lips pull into a frown, glancing away. She swallows thickly, hesitating to say the words which wait to be spoken, the questions she finds herself weighed down by since the night previous.

"He has…" she pauses, eyes closing against the horrible images which flash in her mind. "his back." She breaths. "he has all these…"

"Scars." Thor says for her.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide.

She nods weakly.

"And… and his lips, around…" her hand raises, fingers touching her own lips as though to demonstrate.

At this, Thor glances away, face falling in some unspoken agony.

"I didn't… I mean, before," Jane says. "why couldn't I…"

"Loki wears a glamour about himself to hide the scars." He says. "Even with his magic bound, it is still within him, and thus can be applied to his own person, if not to others."

"Oh." Jane says distantly. Again, she swallows, her throat suddenly dry.

"He must have let the glamour drop while he was sleeping and not realized it was not in place when he woke, if you saw…" Thor begins to explain before trailing off.

"What… I mean, what happened… to him?" She hears herself ask, realizing a moment later that she wishes she hadn't, that she doesn't know how Thor will react.

She sees his entire frame tense hard, and suddenly she's afraid.

"Many things." He replies, and she remembers Loki's words matching those from last night. "Loki is oft one to find for himself trouble. He has many enemies. Many beings who wish him harm." Thor pauses, glancing away, towards the tents flap. "There are those times when those who do have found him in their possession." He looks back, face as hard and serious as Jane has ever seen it. "Rarely have they hesitated to take advantage of their position then, and his." He finishes, and Jane feels sick.

Thor's eyes go distant then with memory.

"There is a myth, in your Realms legends, of my brother transforming into a falcon and being captured and held prisoner by a giant for three months, locked away in a tiny box."

Jane blinks. She hasn't heard of the story, but she hasn't read much on Loki at all, she realizes, having relegated her research mostly to Thor.

"The story is true." Thor says. "Only the details are incorrect. It was not three months, but three years he was held captive. None of us in Asgard thought a thing of it. Three years may for you mortals seem a long time, but for us, it is but an instant. And we knew Loki was on a quest. It is not unusual for such things to last years at a time. And though Loki can and often does shape shift, he was not a bird when the kidnapping occurred."

Jane can't quite keep the look of shock from her eyes at the revelation, but otherwise remains quiet.

"He was himself, and locked away in a small container, that much is accurate."

The thunder god's eyes drift to the floor, his hand around hers tightening minutely.

"The giant starved Loki." He goes on, voice almost a whisper now. "My brother had no food in all that time. No water. As gods, we need no sustenance to live. But still, we feel the pangs of hunger and thirst, and still, our bodies are affected by the lack of these things." He looks up at her, and she sees his eyes are wet with unshed tears. "Eventually, Loki was able to escape by fooling the giant, promising him he would lure me to him without the aid of my hammer. A trade, one Prince for another."

Jane's mouth falls open in shocked dismay, and Thor smiles wryly.

"He lied, of course." Thor says. "The giant released him to go and bring me to him. It took Loki another two weeks to make his way back to the city. He was wearing a glamour to hide the state of him from Asgard's people, and did not let it drop until he was within my chambers in the palace. I still do not know how he made it far as he did on foot. His magic was near depleted at that point, and he was unable to teleport. I recall him collapsing almost immediately within the door to my sleeping quarters, and me running to him. By the Norns, I still remember the sight of him. He was so wasted away. He looked as nothing more than a bag of ruined bones."

Thor's expression contorts in obvious agony at the memory, and for a moment, he has to pause, turning away from her and bringing his hand to cover his eyes.

"He told me what had happened," he finally begins again after a moment, hand dropping, voice wavering slightly. "barely able to hold to consciousness, and of the bargain he had made with the giant."

Thor's eyes slide away again.

"It cost Loki what little reputation he had then, of being a man of trustworthy nature, telling me of it and going back on his word to the giant."

"What?" Jane asks, confused. "You mean, people held that _against _him?"

Thor nods.

"Aye." He replies quietly. "A man's word is considered sacred among my people. To go back on it, no matter the circumstances, is thought unforgivable. Loki suffered much mockery and ridicule for sparing me the giant's wrath. And only a rare few have given his word any value since."

"That's…" Jane's voice comes out a troubled whisper. "That's horrible. I can't believe… How could they _do _that? When all he was trying to do was save your life?!"

Thor smiles bitterly.

"They justified it to themselves by saying it was Loki's own fault for allowing himself to be captured by a giant in the first place." He shakes his head. "He did end up leading me to the creature, under my urging, and I slew the fiend for him, of course. But it took many months for Loki to recover physically from what was done to him, and in all that time, not once did he allow his condition to be seen or known to anyone save myself and our… our mother."

He looks away, swallowing.

"Loki has ever been expert in secreting the evidence of his suffering." He says. "Therein lies the point of me telling you this, I suppose. And I… I suppose it is why for so long I never realized there was anything wrong with him. Why I could not see the discontent within him."

He shakes his head then, glancing back to her.

"But no, that is not true. It was… it was my failing as a brother to him. As the one who was meant to protect him. I should have seen. I should have _known_."

"Thor," Jane starts. "no. Don't say that. You can't blame yourself. I know you were a good brother. I _know_ it."

Thor smiles sadly at her then, once more shaking his head.

"You are kind to say so Jane." He says. "But, there are things… so many things that have happened between Loki and I which I hold in shame now. Ways in which I have hurt him, which I fear may never be forgiven."

He lifts a broad hand, wiping at his eyes, and it scares Jane, how lost he looks then.

It seems not right. That one so powerful and sure should be so helpless.

She is about to protest again, to try and reassure him, when suddenly the tent's flap pulls back, and there Loki is.

He says nothing, does not even seem to notice them as he begins moving about, gathering various things which Jane assumes are his, books mostly. Jane hadn't even noticed them before, and she wonders where they came from. Surely they couldn't have fit into the small pouch Loki wears on his belt.

As if in reply to her puzzlement, the mischief god makes some intricate movement with his hands, and in an instant, the books he's holding vanish into seemingly thin air.

Jane gapes, unable to help herself.

And then Loki turns to them. If he notices her astonishment, he gives no indication, simply saying,

"We should be leaving soon."

And as quickly as he came, he's gone.

Both Jane and Thor are quiet then, readying themselves for the day, not another word said of what they'd spoken before.

/

In three days more of travel, they have been attacked four times, and each of those times, Loki has dispersed the danger before it ever really even had a chance to mount.

He seemed always to know before any enemies were even visible that they were there and from where they came, and he would kill them with such brutal efficiency, so quickly, that it was rare Thor ever even had a chance to take aim at any of them and win himself a victory.

Jane thinks she's seen enough violence in the last week to last her ten lifetimes, and she knows with growing dread that the real battles haven't even begun.

Loki seems driven to her, the way he has been pushing their travel, the way he has been engaging those who try to stop them with such uncompromising ferocity.

She's barely seen him rest. Only seen him eat a few, spare times, and only ever the most minimal amount.

She finds herself wondering how he maintains such a high expenditure of energy each day when he seems to take so little care of himself. And then she remembers what he is… an alien… or a god… she doesn't know. She questions if there's even any difference.

Thor has told her Loki is actually from a race of giants, Jotnar, they're called, born of snow and ice. And suddenly Loki's comment to her, about Frost Giants not feeling the cold makes more sense.

But Loki is smaller than Thor by a considerable amount, very clearly, and when she questioned him on it, he had told her that his brother was a runt, considered deformed and undesirable by a race which above all else values physical strength and prowess.

It was how, Thor explained, Loki ended up adopted by his family, how he was brought to Asgard and made a Prince of the Realm. He had been abandoned by his birth parents, left to die in the brutal cold of his home world, regarded as worthless, and a blight upon the Royal House of Laufey, Jotunheim's former King.

And only in the last two years had Loki found all of this out.

Jane had asked why it was kept from him. She didn't understand why a parent would keep something like _that _from their child, and Thor had told her their mother and father were only trying to protect Loki. Frost Giants were hated on Asgard, viciously. He told her if it had been known, Loki's life would have not only been utterly miserable, but he would have been in grave danger from the very people he ruled over as Prince.

Loki had anyway been singled out and bullied for being different, he said, for not fitting in. If it had been known he was Jotun, it only would have been worse.

Still, Jane didn't understand.

She didn't understand why they couldn't have told _just_ Loki, let him know the _truth_, instead of growing up in a culture which taught him to despise his own race.

She wondered what they had thought would happen if and when he did find out.

As much as she was hesitant to admit it, she was beginning to understand why Loki was the way he was.

It didn't excuse all he had done. Not by a long shot.

But she understood, and it made sense.

In a way, even, she felt sorry for him. Though she wasn't about to say so, if the way she'd seen him react to pity was any indication of what she could expect.

What she had a more difficult time understanding was Loki's apparent contempt towards Thor.

Thor kept mentioning wrongs done to Loki on his part, ones he'd only just realized, but he wouldn't specify.

And from the stories he'd been sharing with her recently, Loki had once been so loyal a brother, he'd sacrificed his own reputation for Thor's sake, in a world where apparently reputation was everything.

But he now spoke with such venomous rage and vitriol against and to Thor, insulting him, it seemed, every chance he got.

It left Jane confused, and upset, to think that two people who had once been so close could grow so far apart.

They've finally settled in for the night, having set up camp, and for the last half hour, have all been sitting around the fire in relative silence, only Thor occasionally speaking to Jane.

Jane doesn't think either Thor or Loki have spoken more than a handful of words to each other all day today.

She supposes it's better than the fights they've been having periodically throughout this entire venture.

Finally, Thor announces that he's going to bed for the night, and as he stands, he holds his hand out for Jane, assuming she'll want to come with him.

"Actually Thor," she starts. "I was thinking of staying up a while longer out here, if that's okay."

Thor looks at her, expression befuddled, brow furrowing in clear concern.

She sees his eyes flick to Loki, and then back to her.

Loki says nothing. Doesn't even seem to have heard Jane, his attention focused on a book in his hands.

"Are you sure Jane?" Thor asks, uneasy.

She nods, trying to smile reassuringly at him.

"Yeah." She says. "I won't be long, promise. I could just use a little more fresh air."

Thor hardly looks convinced, glancing once more to Loki. She can see the threat in the thunder god's eyes, the warning to his brother that should he try anything, he would only regret it.

Jane doesn't know if Loki even notices, his face still turned down.

Until at last Thor looks to her once more, sighing and nodding.

"Very well." He says, bending to place a soft kiss atop her head.

He gives her shoulder a light squeeze before straightening, whispering quietly against her ear…

"Do not tarry too long. I shall miss your warmth."

She smiles up at him, squeezing his hand back, nodding.

And finally he departs, Jane watching him as he disappears into the tent.

Silence reigns.

Only the sound of the fire crackling fills the air between her and Loki, and the occasional sound of animals, somewhere in the distance of the surrounding woods.

Jane would be frightened by it, if there weren't a _god_ sitting four feet across from her.

Loki for his part hasn't once looked up from the pages of his book, turning them every second, and Jane realizes with a start that he can speed read.

Well, of _course_.

She would call the silence awkward, if she thought Loki felt anything of it. But he doesn't seem to.

She is about to open her mouth, to say something, beginning to question her decision to stay out here alone with him, when the sound of his own voice cuts her off.

"There are very few maidens who would ever possess the temerity to send the Crown Prince of Asgard to bed alone."

Jane looks up at him, confused.

"Excuse me?" She asks, not understanding.

And finally, the mischief god raises his eyes, and he's smirking at her, nodding in the direction of the tent.

"What you did just now would be considered a great insult in Asgard, the mighty Thor's chosen mate, refusing his will and want. And from a _mortal_, no less."

Loki's tone sounds absolutely scandalized, and Jane's eyes widen.

"What?!" She starts. "No, that's… I didn't mean to…"

Her burgeoning panic is cut short by his laughter, and she pauses, taken aback by the sound.

At the pleasantness of it.

Nothing at all like the mocking laughter she's heard from him before.

This holds only genuine, even good natured mirth.

And his eyes seem to sparkle bright with it, shining. And she's struck once more by how very young he seems.

"Fear not, Ms. Foster." He says. "Thor could do with the lesson in humility. He so rarely has had to face it." He bows his head to her, as though in reverence. "You have in this instance my admiration."

Jane blinks.

She doesn't know how to respond to that.

Loki makes it so she doesn't have to.

"But truly," he says. "you should retire for the night. We have perhaps another half day of travel before we reach the city, and there will be little enough time for rest from that point forward."

Again, Jane blinks, unsure what to make of Loki's sudden talkativeness, or the bizarrely friendly tone he's taking.

Finally, she's able to pull her thoughts together, clearing her throat somewhat nervously.

"Yeah, I… I suppose." She mutters quietly.

Another moment passes.

"It's been pretty rough out here, I guess." She adds absently, without really thinking, eyes shifting away.

Loki nods.

"Indeed." He says. "You have endured remarkably well, considering."

Her eyes snap back to him, narrowing.

Why the hell is he being so nice?

She sees his eyes travel up to the night sky, gazing upon it for long, quiet moments.

And then he sighs.

"Svartalfheim is such an ugly Realm." He says, gaze dropping back to her. He smiles thinly. "Now Alfheim, land of the Light Elves, that is a place you should see. They say Asgard is the most beautiful of Realms, but Alfheim, I believe, has a beauty beyond measure. And there is no race of greater magical abundance. They are, of all the Nine's beings, perhaps the closest to Yggdrisal herself."

Jane's eyes widen in wonderment. She swallows, trying to envision what such a place looks like.

"You've… you've been there?" She asks.

"I have been to all the Nine Realms, many times over." He answers swiftly. "And many places beyond."

"You don't need the Bifrost." Jane says, not a question. The realization suddenly hitting her, and all it could mean.

He shakes his head in response anyway.

What seems a million questions pop into her mind, and she wants to ask them all. About how he does it, if it's something he could teach others to do, if he would know how to build a machine to duplicate the ability

Somehow, she keeps them to herself.

Instead, she says…

"We've been doing all this walking. Since you got your magic back, couldn't you have just… I don't know, just…"

She waves her hands, unsure of the proper term.

"Teleported us to the city and saved you the burden of your aching muscles?" Loki supplies for her.

She stares a moment, and then nods.

"Yeah." She says sheepishly.

Loki smiles, and shrugs lightly, closing his book.

"I could have." He says. "But to carry both you and Thor and then myself would have left my power greatly drained, and have taken nearly a full, rested day to recover it. I cannot afford to go into battle against the enemy we face with my energy so depleted. It will take enough of a toll on me, opening the portal for Asgard's forces once we arrive."

"But," Jane begins, still not quite comprehending. "Really? I mean, you've been taking out these guys attacking us pretty easily. I thought…"

Loki chuckles, cutting her off.

"It is not the same." He says. "The Elves we have been facing, while possessed of magic, are not of great strength in it, and wield what little amount they do have clumsily. Malekith is a creature of an entirely different sort."

He leans back, regarding Jane closely a moment.

She stares back, both curious and with apprehension filling her gut.

"There are very few beings in the Nine Realms of significant magical energy. Fewer still who maintain any sort of mastery over that energy. Malekith the Accursed is one such being."

Jane hesitates, feeling her apprehension grow at the seriousness of Loki's tone.

"And you've… you've faced him before?" She finally manages to ask.

And Loki smiles almost sardonically.

"In a manner of speaking." He says. "I have little doubt Thor has shared with you a tale of glory and honor, if not to spare me, then to spare him and his father the embarrassment of the truth."

Jane's expression grows confused.

"I'm sorry?" She asks. "I'm not…" her head shakes. "I don't understand."

"Malekith once captured me." Loki answers without hesitation. "And tortured me."

Finally his eyes slide away from hers.

"This was many centuries ago, when I was barely more than a child. And though my sedir was great…"

Jane sees Loki's hands clench to fists in his lap.

"greater than _his_," he goes on finally, calm voice belying the tension in his frame. "he was far older, and far more experienced, his control over his energy well surpassing my own at the time."

He looks back to her at last, expression eerily blank.

"He understood how to suppress my power and keep me helpless. And he took full advantage of the fact."

Once more, he glances away.

"Only through sheer force of will did I manage to escape his hold."

He shakes his head.

"But the encounter was his great folly. For it spurred me on only to train harder. To better hone and refine my skills."

Jane sees he is clenching his hands so hard now, his knuckles are turning white.

"And it will be his downfall now."

He falls silent then, and for a long moment, Jane says nothing.

She can see the rage boiling through him, held down and quiet, and somehow, it frightens her as much as when he had come at her with threats on his tongue and violence in his movements.

"… What did he do to you?" She asks in a whisper, only realizing a moment after that she'd spoken the question aloud, eyes widening slightly in trepidation at his reaction.

She expects for him to explode, to yell at her and threaten her again for daring to ask.

But he only sits there, silent a long while, face turned away.

And then she hears him speak, voice so soft, she almost doesn't hear.

"… He stole away my hope."

And he says nothing more after that, until the fire has dwindled nearly to nothing, and he looks back at her, at last, his handsome features barely visibly in the dark.

"Get some rest, Ms. Foster." He tells her. "Tomorrow, our journey ends."

And Jane nods, giving no protest as she makes her way back into the tent, not bothering to ask if he'll be coming to bed too. She knows he won't.

She lays awake a long time afterwards, thinking about what he said. Trying to understand what he meant.

When she does, she feels her heart break.

/

**AN: Thanks so much to everyone for your reviews and support! I hope you continued to enjoy this chapter, and please, let me know your thoughts!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

It is as Loki had said it would be.

Within half the day gone, they had arrived, some five miles outside the city, and Loki had opened the portal, Asgard's amassed forces stepping through, gathering in the kind of ordered assemblage which spoke to the culture they were born to and raised in. Warriors, all of them, needing no heed, no order from their commanders to take up position, no incentive beyond the desire to protect their home world.

Thousands upon thousands of them.

It took hours for them to come through, Loki tasked with and having to hold the way open for all of that time, knelt in unfathomable concentration, head bowed and form unnaturally still, only the trickles of sweat which slid cross his brow and temples to indicate the strain. All knew to leave him be, to not disturb his focus, lest he falter, and the portal close, trapping however many hundred were inside, lost to the void forever.

And when it was done, when the forces had made it through, all of them, stood and ready for their command, Thor, and another god by the name Tyr, took to the leads, and roused their men and women into anticipatory readiness and desire, impatience, even, to bring themselves to the field of battle and shed blood in the name of their people and king.

"FOR ASGARD!" Thor had cried, raising his hammer high above his head, voice ringing out like thunder across the plains.

"FOR ASGARD!" The army had pledged back, and Jane had known, across the distance still separating them, the Dark Elves must have heard.

Through it all, Loki had stood back, away from the rest, eyes fixed upon some point in the distance. He hadn't joined in the throng of soldiers, hadn't taken a place up front with his brother, as any sort of leader or head. And no one looked to him, no one addressed him as such either.

And when they had began to march, Loki had disappeared, to where, Jane was unable to follow, beside Thor as she was, under his protection.

She hadn't known what would become of her once they reached the wall of the city, the question finally answered when they did, and veritable chaos had broken.

Jane thinks, even now, to that point she had never known fear like she did then, not even when the Dark Elves had descended upon Asgard and lain waste.

And still, Jane wonders at how it was she wasn't killed within those first, few moments, with the violence and fury and hell which had exploded around her.

She had been sure then and there she was finished.

And then Thor had been dragging her by her arm, screaming something to her, her unable to make out the words for the cacophony of sound around them, pulling her into some building and telling her to stay and not emerge under any circumstances, promising she would be safe there.

Jane hadn't been able to get a word out to him then before he was gone, disappearing through the entrance, back into the fray.

It had been a temple of worship he'd left her in, and Jane remembers never feeling more alone in her life, more abandoned. The sounds of death and hatred and cruelty filling the air from outside, its muted impact reaching her inside.

For hours, she still doesn't know how many, she'd stayed in that place, the battle outside never seeming to cease, never waning.

So many thoughts had run through her mind then. Questions of what if. What if Thor was killed? What if the armies of Asgard lost? What would become of her then? Would the Elves kill her? Rape her?

She had worked herself into a fever pitch of frenzy and fear, unable to hold still, to calm herself down. Several times, she had contemplated leaving the place, going out and doing… she didn't _know _what. Something, _anything_ but the horrible waiting, left with nothing but imagined scenarios of her mind.

And then the fear she had thought would be the worst of her life was eclipsed as nothing, when finally it was something had happened. When the doors to that place of supposed sanctuary had been blasted open, and the one being she had hoped never to see, never to face again, came rushing inside.

Malekith.

He had come at her like a demon out of hell itself, covered half in blood and face twisted in a mask of such fury and rage, Jane had felt her own heart stutter to a frozen paralysis, before beginning to beat painfully rapid against her ribcage.

What had happened after that, Jane still isn't sure.

Isn't sure she ever wants to _really_ know.

She had been taken, by some unseen force.

Malekith had gestured out towards her, hand raised palm up, and some strength indescribable had taken hold of her limbs, and without warning, without logic, she had been lifted into the air. And a crushing, suffocating darkness had swept through her insides.

She calls it darkness, for there is no other word she thinks to adequately say what it was.

It had felt as though she was losing a grip on _herself_, she remembers. As though who she was, _what_ she was, had been falling away into nothingness, and whatever power held her had begun to seep in and take over, undoing what pitiful resistance her own consciousness offered.

She remembers the world around going black. Light dimming until there seemed only shadow, and a rage of noise filling her ears, so that nothing but deafening screams and howling wind seemed to encompass her mind.

She had tried struggling, she recalls dimly. Trying to pull physically free. But she had been frozen and unable to move. Like the state between waking and sleep, when your mind is conscious, but your body is not. And you can't move, you can't speak or scream or cry out for help.

Thor had come rushing in.

She remembers that.

But he had been nothing more than a form to her. A shape recognized, but none of his details, none of what made him there for her to see, or touch, or hear.

She remembers him falling to his knees, and some kind of unintelligible bellow ripping through the air. If it had been him, she doesn't know, and supposes she never will.

And she remembers thinking, as the darkness swallowed her, and consumed her, and robbed her of all that she was, she remembered thinking…

"I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die…"

And then there had been light.

The brightest, most blinding light, searing through the darkness filling her eyes, disintegrating it to nothing. An explosion of green and white and gold.

And a voice, breaking and cutting through the ceaseless and deafening wind in her ears, sharp and clear as day, deep and rich and speaking a language she had never before heard in her life.

And then she was falling, a gasp tearing from her closed off throat, loud and desperate and longing.

And when at last she had managed to lift her eyes, she had seen him there.

Loki.

Standing at the room's center, drenched in blood, sword dropped by his side, thick with red the same, hands outstretched, wisps of sparking, tingling light at the tips of his long, thin fingers. Green and gold and white. Steam seeming to rise up off it.

And his eyes…

God, she still remembers his eyes.

Blazing green light, pupils no longer remotely visible, glowing in the dimness of the temple, bright as the sun.

She had had to look away then, the brightness painful to her own sight.

And then she had heard, at last, the darkness in her ebbing and subsiding, and she recalls Malekith uttering, low and horrified…

"No. Not you…"

She had seen him begin to motion, to lift his hands in some gesture from the periphery of her vision, and then, from across them, a scream of such hatred, just thinking of it now causes her blood to run cold.

It had been Loki, crying out in defiance, and before Malekith had so much as completed his motions, a wave of concussive, crushing force had thrown the Elf back off his feet, landing him hard on his back, and Jane remembers, in an instant, Loki advancing, so fast, her eyes hadn't properly been able to follow the motion.

She knows only that she had scrambled back and away, utter fear taking over her insides at the knowledge that her way, something powerful beyond comprehension came.

It hadn't lasted long.

Loki had gestured forward, raising his hand up and bringing it down in a violent, slicing motion, and the Dark Elf leader had been lifted and crushed to the floor once again.

And then he had been frozen, somehow, unable to move a single limb, trapped against the ground.

He had begun to chant, to speak some language, voice hitched and desperate and sloppy in its hast. But whatever it was he had been trying to do, it hadn't been fast enough.

Nothing had been fast enough.

For the trickster god was on him in an instant, blowing past Jane and taking no heed of her, like he hadn't even known she was there. And Jane remembers watching in wide eyed horror as Loki had fallen upon the splayed Elf, straddling him. And she can see in her mind now, the way Loki had held his hand, palm faced down, above Malekith's lips, and then squeezed it, into a trembling fist, and the way the Elf's voice had suddenly cut off into nothing, disappearing like it had never existed.

And Jane had realized with a start that Loki had done something to steal the Elf's voice. He'd somehow taken it away completely.

She still can recall the unmitigated terror which had filled Malekith's eyes then, as Loki had born down on him, and her own, disbelieving fear as a gleaming dagger had formed suddenly in the god's left hand, brilliant and sharp, some foot and a half in length.

And the way, oh Christ, the way Loki's free hand had come down over Malekith's face, spreading over and crushing, covering his eyes and nose and mouth, and how he'd brought the blade, glowing bright with some unnatural, green fire, to the Elf's throat.

Malekith had been helpless, unable to move, to even _scream_.

Loki had leaned down against him then, she remembers, brought his lips to the Elf's left ear, and spoken something none other could hear.

And then he'd sliced Malekith's throat.

And there had been so much blood.

Dark blue as it oozed sickeningly thick from the gapping wound left by the glowing dagger, pooling out wide and ceaseless onto the stone floor.

He had stood then, Loki, and stepped back, eyes wide and expressionless on the dying form of the Dark Elf leader, watching, watching, until the struggling throws of death had at last relented, and the body had grown still as a stone.

He had turned then, Jane still sees it so clearly, and walked away, slow and seemingly aimless, past her, past Thor, who's own expression was wide with disbelief and shock.

Loki had bent, listlessly lifting his dropped sword from the ground, and both she and Thor had watched, as the second Prince had wandered away, back out into the field of battle.

A moment of stunned silence had past, before at once, Thor had made it to his feet and run to her, embracing her and crushing her against him, sobbing openly, saying over and over how sorry he was.

But Jane hadn't really heard him.

Hadn't really felt anything.

Only the thoughts repeating themselves in her brain, again and again.

Thor had left her there, alone.

Thor had left her.

And then Loki had come.

It had been _Loki_ who saved her.

Loki who had saved all of them.

The battle hadn't lasted long afterwards.

With their leader slain, the Dark Elves had been left without direction, falling into chaos, and Asgard's forces were able to make quick work of what had remained of them.

No small portion, Jane would learn later from Thor, had been single handedly taken out by Loki's hand alone.

But that night, returned to Asgard at last after a long and arduous journey back, in the feast halls of the city's shining palace, amidst the rabble and celebration of the Realms great victory over the Dark World, there was scarce a mention of the still disgraced younger Prince.

None made mention of Loki's contribution. None spoke a word of Loki's magic, and how through him alone, Asgard's warriors had been able to make it to Svalterheim. How it had been his plan of attack, to bring the Aesir forces to the very borders of their enemies city stronghold, taking them by surprise as they had done to Asgard not a week earlier. How it had been Loki's own hand which had slain their leader and left the piteous remains of the Dark Elves army in disarray.

None spoke a word, even as they spoke of their own bravery and glory in battle.

And Jane feels sick at the self-aggrandizing and purposeful omissions of the truth.

She doesn't know where Loki has gone.

He isn't a part of this, what she can only consider a mockery of celebration

She had seen him only once since their return.

When Frigga's body had been lain to rest, sent out on a flaming longboat, into the seas surrounding Asgard.

There had been thousands of Aesir gathered along the shores, paying their respects to their beloved and honored Queen.

And Jane had spotted Loki, as always, removed from the rest, stood alone atop a hill of trees, some several hundred yards from the shores.

He had been leaned against one of those trees, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed out on the burning ship, unmoving, face blank and emotionless.

She had seen him for only a moment, turning to look again at the boat, shrinking away into the distance. And when she had turned back to where he was stood, he had been gone.

After that, the "feast" had commenced, supposedly both in honor of the victory and in honor of the Queen.

Odin still sat, immobile, in his sleep. No one, it seemed, knew when he would wake, and as such, Thor was currently Asgard's acting King. And Jane sits beside him now at the long table, piled high with such a ridiculous amount of food, it's impossible to imagine it all ever being consumed, yet if the servants constantly replacing platters and treys is any indication, apparently not such an implausibility after all.

Thor is morbid and sullen beside her, and amidst all this, that at least is appropriate. He has just sent his mother to the heavens, Valhalla, they call it, where those who died an honorable death go, or so Jane is told.

Throughout the entire thing, he has constantly been trying to catch her eye, or her attention in some way, sending her sad, withdrawn half smiles, as though he is uncertain of himself and how he should be around her.

It suits him ill, this lack of confidence.

And Jane finds herself equally confused about how she should feel about him.

She thinks it's ridiculous, to be angry. He didn't _mean_ for her to get caught up in Malekith's attack. Didn't mean for her to almost die.

She tells herself he was just trying to protect her by bringing her along.

But then, Loki's words keep echoing in her memory, the mischief god telling his older brother that it was foolish, that she would be attacked and used against him, that she would be killed.

All of those things had happened, save the last, and only because Loki _himself _had intervened.

Why, she still doesn't know, though she's turned the possible reasons over and over in her head since, until she thought she might go made from it all.

Logically, it seems, he did so only because he was there to kill Malekith, and she just happened to be in the way. Something he had to take care of before he could get down to business.

That seemed most likely too, given how he'd utterly ignored her presence afterwards, like he hadn't even noticed her there.

Still…

He'd saved her too, that time before, when that other Elf had been ready to bring an ax down on her skull.

He hadn't needed to then either.

She supposes it's only some strange wistful thinking on her part, trying to attribute humanity to a man she's begun more and more to feel a kind of muted sympathy for, probably as a means to justify that sympathy. Like she won't feel so bad about it, if she can convince herself Loki isn't some complete monster.

Some of the things Loki's done, the way he's acted and spoken towards her, none of it she would associate with her definition of the word.

But then, Loki is impossible to read, and she's found it utterly hopeless, trying to discern his motivations. Whether there was any kind of ulterior motive behind his kinder actions, or if he did them for the simple act of it.

If there _is_ some other reason, she has yet to see it play out.

She realizes in that moment, abruptly, that she still has his cloak. That she'd never given it back to him, somehow.

She'd left it, that night in her rooms, or rather, the rooms that have been given to her to stay in, here in the palace. She hadn't even thought about it

She wonders, suddenly, if Loki will want it back. Surely, she thinks, he must.

But she doesn't know where he is, and somehow, she doesn't think seeking him out purposefully is the best of ideas.

After everything…

After seeing what he did to Malekith…

The expression in his eyes, and the way he'd gone so totally silent afterwards, not speaking a word to her, to _anyone_ on the way back…

Disappearing the way he had after the funeral…

She doubts he wants to be found.

But she doesn't think she can stand another minute of being here either, and abruptly, she finds herself pushing back in her seat, the effort considerable given the weight of the chair. Eventually, she's able to move away from the table and stand, and Thor turns, looking up at her, a confused frown across his features.

"Jane?" He asks, and she shakes her head, exhaling heavily through her nose.

"I think I'm going to go to bed Thor." She says, glancing at him.

The concern in his eyes doesn't lessen, and he reaches up, placing a hand gently upon her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Is all well?" He asks.

Lying to Thor, she thinks, would have been more difficult before, he is so earnest and sincere himself.

But now she can't work up the energy to care, and she simply nods.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired, is all."

He nods in return, standing then.

"I would retire with you, but…" he glances about. "my presence here is required a few hours more."

"I know." She says, smiling weakly. "It's okay."

"Do you need for me to guide you back to your rooms?" He asks, and she shakes her head.

"No, I'll be alright." She assures.

He studies her a long moment, gaze scrutinizing, and she realizes he doesn't for a minute believe her.

Thor isn't nearly as stupid as initial impressions would lead one to believe.

And, she supposes, growing up with Loki at your side would teach you a thing or two about deceit, and how to detect it in others.

But he nods anyway, and lets her go, and for that, she feels entirely too grateful.

Once outside the dining hall, the doors closing shut behind her with a muted bang, she sighs a breath of relief.

She hadn't realized just how truly stifling it was in there until she was free of it.

And so for a moment, she just stands, considering.

She thinks she could actually go to her rooms to sleep for the night.

But she's incredibly restless, in truth, her mind buzzing and whirring, and she knows she'll just end up lying there, unable to stop thinking. And there's nothing she hates more than _that_. The places her mind tends to take her when she has nothing to distract her from her thoughts.

So she opts on roaming the seemingly endless halls of the palace, knowing logically she'll likely become lost doing so.

But it hardly matters.

There's so many of those stone still guards around the place, stationed along the hallways and room entries. She's sure she can just ask one of them for directions, if it comes to that.

The passageways are dimly lit as she moves along, just shy of being dark, illuminated every twenty paces or so by stone sconces positioned along the walls, flickering, orange flame lighted within each.

She isn't sure for how long she walks, thirty, forty minutes perhaps, until eventually, her feet lead her to the outside, realizing it with a start as the fresh, cool night air hits her face, and she blinks, looking around in a daze.

She's in a garden, of some sort.

Though, she thinks, as her focus readjusts from the fog it had wandered into, garden might be selling the place short.

She's never seen such a sprawling array of different plants and flowers, all intensely exotic and foreign to her eyes, and so beautifully lain out and designed, she thinks instantly it puts the finest botanicals on Earth to shame.

It's like stepping into something out of a fairytale, some enchanted place of magic. And as her thoughts catch up to her, she realizes with a start, in this place, the idea isn't even remotely far fetched.

There is a pulse, an energy humming through the air here. She can _feel_ it, palpably.

And there is such a variety of scents she becomes abruptly aware of. Seemingly hundreds of them, one taking over her senses before giving way to yet another, just as powerful and consuming.

Without thought, without hesitation, she steps farther in, and a kind of strange, even soothing calm comes over her. A feeling of inexplicable warmth and safety, the deeper in she moves.

She becomes lost in this place, the outside world fading from her consciousness as she bends, smelling and examining the ceaseless variety of plant life which surrounds her, taken completely with the stunning beauty of it all.

And so entranced by it is she, she barely registers the soft noise which drifts and finds its way to her ears, realization of it hitting only after several seconds, and she straightens, going still.

And there it is again.

Faint, and barely heard, but she swears it is the sound of someone _crying_.

Suddenly, her awareness comes crashing back to her in sharp relief, and she keeps herself motionless, listening. And there again.

Definitely, someone crying.

Jane swallows, unsure at first what to do.

She thinks maybe she should leave. If there's someone here, they probably want to be left alone. Probably came here because they thought no one would find them and bother them.

But the closer she listens, the clearer the sound becomes, and she is suddenly all too conscious of the fact it sounds like a _man_ crying. Not a woman or child.

And curiosity takes over.

She swallows again, thickly, before daring to move, stepping as quietly as she can forward, towards the sound, making certain not to make any noise.

And as she rounds the corner, peering cautiously ahead, her eyes go wide in absolute shock at what she sees.

She barely manages to catch the startled gasp which tries to force its way up her throat, clamping her hands quickly over her mouth.

It's Loki.

There ahead of her, maybe some ten feet, sat on his knees with his back to her, head bowed at the foot of a large ash tree.

She sees his shoulders trembling, his hands pressed flat against the ground, fingers curling into the dirt, and a chocked sound escapes him, something terrifyingly close to a sob.

And Jane doesn't think she's ever heard anything more awful.

"I am sorry…"

She's startled suddenly by the sound of the god's voice, low and thick with tears.

But it's clear he isn't talking to her. That he doesn't even know she's there.

And that leaves a whole new level of unease spreading through her.

"I thought…" he goes on, and Jane finds herself paralyzed, frozen to the spot and transfixed on him, and the sound of his voice. "Mother, I thought..."

He shakes his head, as though frustrated, and Jane sees him reach up, a pale, thin hand, resting it against the trunk of the tree.

"I killed him Mother." He says. "I killed him, and I was certain… I thought perhaps…"

Again, he shakes his head.

"But it changes nothing. It…" another, stifled sob. "It doesn't bring you back. It doesn't change what he did. What he…"

Abruptly, Loki stiffens, and suddenly, he is straightening, sitting up ramrod, stilling instantly.

Jane freezes, feeling her heart beat rapid, and her stomach flip in unexpected fear.

And when Loki turns, his brilliantly bright gaze piercing her over his shoulder, eyes so unnaturally green, she is sure for a horrifying moment she might actually faint.

And then Loki is standing, to his feet so quickly, she doesn't even realize he's moved until he's turned fully and facing her. His hand lifts, face turning away, and she sees him wipe viciously at his eyes.

But still, she can see them rimmed red, and the remains of tears, dried down his cheeks.

His features twist in hardened rage, and involuntarily, Jane takes a step back, her fear increasing tenfold.

"What are you doing here!?" He asks, voice lost of its usual richness, replaced by a graveled hiss.

Jane's eyes are wide in her face, and for a moment, her mouth goes dry, her lips falling open with nothing upon them.

Loki takes a step towards her, and Jane stumbles, falling back, her feet tripping out from beneath her and throwing her to the ground.

Instinctively, her arms raise up over her head, face turning away.

"I'm sorry." She cries. "I'm _sorry_!"

She expects violence. Expects any moment to feel his impossibly powerful grip take hold of her and crush her bones to dust.

She expects pain.

Instead there is nothing.

Moment pass without action. Without sound.

Until, finally, Jane's arms begin to lower, and she dares to gaze up.

Loki is there still, staring down at her.

His face is still hard, lines etched into his otherwise fine, young features.

But whatever heated anger had lighted his eyes before, it's gone now, replaced with something she can't name.

Something almost lost.

He stares back at her, unmoving, until, finally, he blinks, a single tear escaping with the action, slipping down his cheek. It's as if he's coming out of some transfixed state, and he steps back, eyes still on her, confused now.

She exhales, the air leaving her in a loud rush, only realizing in that moment she'd been holding her breath.

And the words come pouring out of her of their own volition, it seems.

"I didn't mean… I mean, it was an accident. I was just… I was walking around the… uh… the castle, I mean, _palace_! The palace, I was taking a walk and I just, I wandered out here and… I didn't mean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you or…"

Loki straightens, his focus on her seeming to wane as he looks off past her, somewhere behind.

"You should not be here." He says softly.

And Jane nods almost thoughtlessly.

"You're right. I shouldn't. I'll just… I'm sorry. I'll just go."

She's scrambling to her feet, ready to bolt, to forget the whole thing, try to forget the sight and the sound of someone she'd been convinced was a sociopath crying and talking to his mother who'd been gone nearly two weeks. Telling her he was sorry.

Try to forget…

She's turning to go when his voice stops her, so quiet, it's nearly lost on the wind.

"This was her garden." He says.

And Jane stops.

She turns back to face him when he says nothing else, and sees he's moved back towards the tree, staring up into its branches.

She hadn't heard him shift even.

She swallows, unsure what to do. If she should remain, or leave as she'd been about to.

His continued words make the decision for her, though it sounds as though he speaks to himself more than to anyone else.

"It was here I would frequent as a child." He says. "Here, and the palace library."

He pauses a moment, his head bowing, hands reaching out, palms pressed against the trunk of the tree again.

"Here I would find asylum… from the more…" He laughs softly to himself, the sound still unmistakably bitter. "unkind of my peers." He goes on. "And I would sit, at her feet, at my mother's feet, while she lounged along one of the many benches decorating the grounds."

He motions about absently, as if to indicate what he means.

"Or here, under this tree." He continues, and his voice softens even further, almost soundless now. "I would sit with her, here, in this very spot, her arms wrapped around me… sing to me…" He breaths the last words in a whisper.

And Jane watches as his arms come around, like holding someone in an embrace. But there is only empty air, and eventually, his arms drop back down to his sides, limp, and he looks so small to her suddenly.

So weak.

She notices finally what he's wearing. Gone is the regalia of his armor and its added mass. He's dressed now only in a green, seemingly roughly knit tunic, and soft leather breeches, knee high boots to finish it off. That's all.

The contradiction between his appearance and what she knows he's capable of is unsettling.

Bizarre.

Once more he reaches out, touching the tree.

"I will leave here soon." He says gently. "This place. And it will be long, I think… before I ever return again."

And then very suddenly, he straightens, and turns, looking at her intently, almost… inquiringly.

"The life of this garden would never die," he starts. "under the power of Frigga's magic. It would live eternally, as the gods."

He steps towards Jane, but there is no threatening stance now in his approach, and Jane feels no need to step away this time.

"I had wondered if…" he pauses, and so strangely, his eyes flit away from her, to the ground, almost as if he's _shy_, or embarrassed. But Jane thinks she must be mistaken in her interpretation. There's no way.

"The life here will wither and die, if left on its own, without her seidr." He continues after a moment. And he's still not looking at her.

She sees his hands working, fingers playing intricate patterns through the air at his sides.

"I had wondered if perhaps I should… intervene… in some way. Or simply allow for it to…"

His voice trails off, and Jane thinks she might drown for the sadness she hears in it. The raw, naked sincerity of the emotion.

He turns from her once more, and she sees his hand lift to his face. And he goes still. So completely still.

He says nothing more.

And finally, Jane pulls her eyes from him, gaze moving about the beauty which surrounds her, at the abundance of life and promise and warmth this place holds.

And she thinks what a shame it would be, to let it go. To let it rot away to nothing.

What a shame it would be to her memory.

She looks back to Loki then, and he still hasn't moved.

"I think…" she starts, voice trembling only slightly. She clears her throat, trying to make herself sound stronger. "I think it would do your mother a great honor." She finally says. "If you kept her garden well in her stead."

Seconds pass without reply from the mischief god. Seconds stretching into what seems minutes. And Jane fears abruptly that she's somehow overstepped her bounds. Somehow offended him, and she feels her heart beat harder with the fear of it.

But then she sees him shift, if only minutely. Sees him turn his head to the side, so that his perfect profile is visible over his shoulder. And she sees him nod, a single incline of the head in her direction.

And that's enough.

Jane smiles weakly at him, nodding in return.

And then she turns to leave.

"Goodnight Loki." She says, beginning to move away, not expecting him to reply.

A moment.

"… Goodnight, Ms. Foster."

And there is the strangest lift of weight she feels then.

Like a pressure off of her heart.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

The next morning, Loki is gone.

Jane doesn't know _how_ she knows. She just does.

And when she sees Thor, he tells her the same.

That Heimdall lost sight of him, and he is gone from Asgard. To where, nobody knows.

Jane only nods. And neither of them say anything more of it.

A week later, Jane returns to Earth.

Thor says he wishes he could stay with her, but that with Odin still in his sleep, that Asgard needs him as her acting King, and Jane only smiles weakly and tells him she understands.

Things between them… haven't felt the same since the battle with Malekith.

Neither of them have really acknowledged it. It's just there, sitting like a rift which separates, keeping them apart.

Jane can't explain it, why it's there or how. It seems illogical. But emotions have never been something she's particularly good at navigating, and she thinks whatever short lived affair there had been between her and Thor has perhaps already run its course.

It makes her sad.

She doesn't know when she'll see the thunder god again.

If she ever will…

Without expectation, she thinks suddenly of Loki, and how it is even less likely she shall ever lay eyes on him again.

And the sadness she feels somehow grows, until it feels like a weight, crushing down on her chest.

Until there is a sense of some inconsolable loss.

A part of her life over before she even really knew it was there…

/

_Six months later_

Jane grits her teeth, entire frame tensing as for what must be the fifth time, an "error" message pops up on her computer screen.

It takes, she thinks, every ounce of her considerable will _not _to scream in frustration, or smash her keyboard against the adjacent wall.

She's been trying to figure this fucking program out for the last hour and a half, and has gotten exactly _no where_.

Fucking Stark technology. It disturbs her, just slightly, that a physicist, at the top of her field, and no she doesn't think that's bragging, can have so much difficulty figuring out how to work a computer.

Ever since she landed this job working for SHIELD as head of their inter-dimensional space travel program, she's had nothing but trouble. She'd taken the offer because of the incredible funding that came with it, and the seemingly endless resources. But since then, she's run into so much bureaucratic and political bullshit, she can practically feel herself choking on it, and she very nearly regrets her decision now.

She longs for the solitude and quiet of her tiny little lab in New Mexico, when everything was _hers_, and no one else could touch it.

Here, in New York, in this locked down skyscraper, she swears, it feels like someone is constantly standing over her shoulder, watching her every move, just waiting to tell her no, she can't do that.

Breathing in through her nose, she rests her face in her hands, thinking now would probably be a good time to take her lunch break, when her cell goes off.

She reaches for it, pressing the call button without checking the caller ID, and bringing to her ear.

"Yeah?" She barks irritably, not really in the mood for talking.

"Jane, holy shit, do you see what's happening, like, right now!?"

Great. Darcy.

Jane closes her eyes, bringing her fingers to her temple and massaging absently.

"Darcy," she breaths in exasperation. "what are you talking about?"

"On the news!" Darcy shouts, practically breaking her ear drum. "Like, right now! This shit's going down LIVE."

Jane rolls her eyes, eyes scanning lazily for the remote control to her office's television, interest only slightly piqued.

"What?" She asks half-heartedly, finally finding the thing buried under a pile of papers, fumbling to turn it over and point it at the TV.

"That psycho little brother of Thor's!" Darcy finally blurts. "Him and the Avengers are facing off, right now, in some… some pastry shop or something! I don't know!"

Jane very nearly drops the remote, eyes going wide.

"_What_!?" She nearly shouts, finally managing to press the power button. She searches frantically for the nearest news station.

And then everything freezes.

Darcy's still talking in her ear, but Jane doesn't hear a word she's saying, her eyes glued to the TV screen, a news reporters voice over the images.

"… _Pastry Shoppe in Downtown Manhattan, the Avengers arriving on the scene some five minutes ago and attempting what appears to be some sort of preventative course of action. Violence has yet to break out but_…"

And then the reporter's voice fades to the background too.

Jane can't believe what she's seeing.

Loki, standing in what looks like a bakery shop barely bigger than her office, dressed in some ridiculously expensive looking suit which, she thinks, would look absurd on anyone else, but damn if he doesn't have the body to make it look amazing, standing across from the freakin' Avengers. Like, _all _of them, save the Hulk and Thor, and thank God for that.

His pose looks casual, as though he's utterly unconcerned by the fact that four super hero's are facing off against him, each with decidedly more hostile body language, clearly ready and maybe even vying for a fight.

There's no sound. This is being filmed from a distance, obviously, but the picture is still clear and close up.

Loki is saying something, pointing it seems to behind the order counter, casual.

The response to him is anything but.

Hawkeye suddenly looses an arrow, and Jane can't help the tiny shriek which escapes her lips before watching as Loki gestures, waving a hand lazily, the arrow dropping in mid flight like a stone to the ground.

She sees his features line in mild displeasure, and he's shaking his head now, saying something else. Hands raising, as though trying to placate.

He isn't attacking.

Iron Man's hands are raised, the repulses glowing white in clear threat.

Loki says something else, and Iron Man lets loose, a blast of pure, white energy.

Loki throws his hands up, and the blast slams against some sort of otherwise invisible barrier, light shimmering and dissipating across its surface.

"He isn't attacking…" Jane mummers to herself.

Another arrow, hitting the same barrier and falling, useless to the ground.

"He isn't attacking!" Jane yells at the screen, hands waving frantically, as though anyone can hear her.

Loki's expression is visibly angry now, but still, he isn't matching their assaults on him, only deflecting. He says something again, and then, suddenly, like something unreal, the wall beside him comes down, breaking away in massive chunks, and he whirls to face the giant, green behemoth filling the now empty space.

Jane can see a flash of something like shock pass over the god's features, and then he's raising his hands, green-white light splaying bright between his fingers.

But the Hulk is like lightening, moving faster than the eye can see, and in an instant, he's grabbed hold of Loki, lifting him from the floor like he weighs nothing, and Jane feels her stomach flip in sickening dread at the sight.

Loki, who she'd seen with her own, two eyes uproot a tree from the ground and wield the damn thing like a toy sword.

The Hulk barrels into the shop, massive hand gripped about Loki's shoulders, and it's like the world comes to a screeching halt, and what's happening is playing out in some bizarre, slowed haze.

The Hulk lifts the god, and there is a nauseating horror which rips through Jane, everything snapping back to reality as he brings Loki down, smashing his head against what looks like a slab of inch thick marble lain out on the front counter. The kind bakers use to work dough on.

The thing snaps in two from the impact, and for one, terrifying moment, Jane is sure, she's _sure_, Loki is dead. The speed with which he was smashed, the power behind the impact…

She knows he's a god, or a… a super powered alien or _whatever_, but Jesus, she doesn't think anyone could have survived that.

The Hulk lets him drop, Loki's body falling limp to the ground, and it seems for a moment, time stills, and Jane can feel herself shaking.

And then her eyes widen in absolute disbelief, and such unexpected and overwhelming relief, as she sees the mischief god shift, and push himself to his knees. His arms are shaking, and there is blood, too much blood, smeared along the ridge of his brow, a deep laceration running from the edge of his hairline, down his right temple.

The Avengers are standing around him, gathered in a half circle, watching with apprehension as he struggles up to his feet, posed to fight. They're wary of him still, even as he stumbles, and falls back to one knee, hand coming to his head.

"Oh, God…" Jane breathes to herself, watching as he again tries getting to his feet, and again, his legs give out beneath him.

The Black Widow says something to him, pistol aimed directly at the god's head. But whatever it is, Loki isn't listening.

Jane sees his eyes light like green fire, as a third time, he struggles to his feet. And then those eyes flare brighter somehow still, glowing incandescent, and his mouth falls open in what looks like a scream of rage.

He turns, in a motion impossibly quick, and in an instant, a blast of green and gold light explodes out from his hands, thrust towards the Hulk.

The blast hits the beast, and as easily as he had lifted the god and crushed him down, the Hulk is now blown off his own, massive feet, lifted into the air and shot like a bullet across the shop, smashing through the wall with such an impact, it seems to shake the very foundations of the building, disappearing onto the street outside.

And then nothing.

Loki takes a step forward, still clearly unsteady on his feet, and before he can do so much as raise his arms again, Iron Man blasts him with a repulse, throwing the god back against the counter, crushed against his lower back.

As he falls forward, Captain America lets his shield fly, the edge of it catching Loki in the throat, and then Iron Man surges forward, seizing the god by the lapels of his suit, lifting him up and tossing him over the counter, following after him as Loki lands hard against the open stove top beyond. The Avenger wastes no time, not allowing Loki to recover as he grabs him by the hair, and smashes his face into the wrought iron appliance. Visible steam rises off the surface, and Loki convulses, and Jane realizes with horror that the stove top is on, that it's _hot_.

Iron Man holds him there, pinned, as he retrieves some sort of device from one of the compartments in his suit, what looks like a high tech collar of some sort.

Loki struggles viciously, bucking under the Avenger's hold, getting his hands underneath him, pressing them to the stove top. More steam rises, and Jane feels sick, realizing that the heat must be flaying the god's naked hands raw. But if he feels any pain, it does nothing to deter him, as he lifts himself up, overpowering Iron Man's pressure, the sheer strength of the move leaving Jane's, and the other Avenger's mouths hanging open in astonishment.

But before he can rip himself free, Iron Man leans forward, jamming an elbow into the god's back, nearly laying his entire torso across Loki's, effectively pushing him back down. And then he's snapping the collar around Loki's neck, and there is a violent shutter through the trickster's thin frame, his mouth falling open in what looks like a scream.

Everything stops.

Loki falls limp and still. Unresponsive.

Unconscious.

Iron Man hauls him off of the stove, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground.

He gives the thumbs up to his team. The Hulk still hasn't emerged from where he'd been thrown through the wall.

When they pull Loki's arms behind his back, carelessly and even unnecessarily rough, and bind his wrists together in some thick, metal restraints unlike any she's ever seen, Jane can't take any more.

She shuts the television off, and turns away.

She hears Darcy's voice, still talking incessantly through the speaker on her phone, dropped at her side.

She bends, lifting the device off the floor, hitting the end button.

And then she sinks down, onto her knees, and presses her face into her trembling hands.

And all she can see is Loki defending himself. Not attacking. Not _attacking_.

Not until they attacked _him_.

Loki, who saved her life twice over.

Loki, who she saw in his mother's garden, weeping for her.

And something about this feels wrong.

All of it.

It feels so wrong.

/

_She finds him where he always is. _

_Tucked and hidden away in the backmost section of the palace library, huddled low in a chair, back against the wall of the corner it's placed in._

_He knows she's there._

_Loki always knows, and she smiles softly to herself._

_Her son, brilliant and bright and too, too sensitive._

_Such sensitivity has never fit in such a place as Asgard. _

_Not in a man._

_Though Loki is still just a boy, somewhere half between childhood and a warriors age._

_This will only become more difficult for him._

_He doesn't move as she approaches, doesn't give any indication that he's aware of her presence. _

_And at first, she says nothing, as she pulls out an opposing seat, sweeping her skirts back as she lowers herself elegantly into the chair._

_Loki has his face buried in his arms, rested against the table._

_He's trying to fool her into thinking he's asleep, and her smile only grows._

_She studies him a moment longer._

_His hair is damp and mussed, half caked with dust from the training fields. His clothes similarly so. There is a long tear in the right sleeve of his tunic, and underneath, she can see dried blood from a wound long since healed. But the fact alone he's left it uncleaned would be enough to tell her something is wrong._

_Loki is always so fastidious about his appearance, about cleanliness. _

_Eventually, she breaths in, reaching out a hand and resting it gently upon his thin shoulder._

"_Loki." She speaks his name in barely more than a whisper._

"_I am well." He answers immediately, voice muffled._

_But she can hear the thickness of it, and she is his mother. She can tell when he's lying, even if no one else can._

"_I know you are not." She says._

_And he remains silent at that._

"_Thor told me what happened." She goes on._

_Loki scoffs, still hiding his face._

"_Did he?" He asks, tone derisive._

_Frigga nods._

"_Yes." She answers. "Loki, remember what I told you? You cannot…"_

"_Did he tell you how he laughed with the others?" Loki suddenly cuts her off, still refusing to lift his face to her._

_Frigga pauses, feeling herself tense slightly, mouth pulling into a frown._

_Her hand still rests on Loki's shoulder, and she can feel the vague tremble running through his frame._

"_No." She at last answers. "He did not."_

_Again, Loki scoffs, and now he sits up, turning his face away too quickly for her to catch a clear glimpse of it._

"_Of course." He mutters._

_She feels her heart sink, watching as he wipes quickly at his eyes, trying to disguise it as he rubs his hand over his face and racking it back through his hair an instant after._

"_Loki," she begins again, finally pulling her hand back. "you should not let it bother you. Thor is brash, and young. He is libel to fall to the pressure of his peers. It does not mean that is how he really feels or…"_

_Loki turns to her abruptly, and her heart nearly breaks at the sight of him. Eyes rimmed red and puffy, still glassy with unshed tears. He's clearly been crying. His face is bruised, a wash of tiny lacerations across his left cheek, lip split wide across the bottom and left eye blackened. _

_The wounds will be healed over entirely in another hour or so._

_But Loki's pride will not._

_His expression is trembling, struggling as he fights to hold on to a mask of indifference, until finally, he loses the battle, and his face breaks in pained lines._

"_I cannot even best a _girl_, Mother." He says, voice pitched slightly higher in his distress. "Sif makes of me a fool. And what are the others to think? Seeing their Prince so easily defeated? So easily disarmed and thrown? How is anyone supposed to look to me as their leader when I am so weak and useless on the field of battle?"_

_He turns away again, hand coming up and fisting in his already tangled hair._

"_Loki…" Frigga reaches out in concern, seeing the beginnings of a panic attack in him._

_He's suffered them since he was a small child, and it frightens her so, whenever it happens._

"_They are right to laugh at me." Loki finally says, voice hoarse and weak. Resigned. _

"_Loki, do not speak such nonsense." Frigga chides, quickly and firmly._

_When he doesn't acknowledge her, she reaches forward, placing her palm against his left cheek and turning his face towards her._

"_Loki," she repeats. "I never want to hear you speak that way about yourself again. Do you hear me?"_

_His eyes flit away, even as she keeps him facing forward._

_And a sigh drags from her lips, letting her hand fall._

"_My boy," she says so quietly, it's almost soundless. "you cannot do this to yourself."_

_She watches him silently a moment, and then shakes her head._

"_You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, my son." She goes on. "What do the words or regard of others matter unless you believe fully in yourself? Loki…"_

_She takes hold of his slender hand, squeezing gently._

"_What matters is you fight bravely. And yes, perhaps you are not physically strong as some of the others. But you still are growing, and eventually, with time, you will become more proficient a fighter."_

"_I will never be as strong as Thor." She hears him mutter._

_She frowns._

"… _Perhaps not." She replies, giving his hand another squeeze, because she _knows_ he will not. _

_Few ever will be, as is, and Loki is small. Of slight build, from the time he was a babe…_

_He will grow more… but not much._

_She looks down, still holding on to him._

"_They laugh at me for my inadequacy in wielding more formal weaponry, and yet chastise and call me coward if I dare to use my seidr in battle." He snaps suddenly, and when Frigga looks up, she sees the single tear which escapes down his cheek. He wipes it viciously away. "I know not what they want of me! I know not what… what…"_

_His eyes squeeze shut, and he shakes his head in frustration._

"_What I am supposed to do. What I am supposed to _be_!"_

"_Oh, Loki…" Frigga breaths, and she stands without hesitation, coming around the table and bending, taking him in her arms and embracing him close._

"_You be yourself, my child." She whispers against his hair. And she feels him cling back, a sharp shutter through his frame. "You be yourself."_

When she enters his cell, she has to stop a moment and catch her breath.

She sees him, sat along the floor.

His hands are bound above his head. Shackled to the wall. They're the same, thick metal cuffs she'd watched them fit onto him on the news. They cover the entirety of his hands, hiding them away, coming midway down his forearms. The chain which holds him to the wall must be three inches thick at each link, bolted down at their ends.

They've removed the suit he was wearing, she notices quickly.

He's in nothing more now than a single, grey t-shirt and loose cotton pants, no shoes or socks on his feet, ridiculously long legs lain out flat in front of him.

His head is drooped forward, and for the first time, it registers to Jane that his hair is short, in the least, compared to how long it had been when last she saw him. Down only to his shoulders now.

But it is mussed and disheveled, thick strands of it falling over his hidden face.

She can see bruises along his arms, starting where the cuffs end, and all the way up to along his small biceps and around.

It's bizarre, how thin he is, how slightly built, and yet they have him bound by restraints meant to hold only the strongest of mutants on their planet.

More bruises still are visible along the low cut neck of his t-shirt, where his collarbone is showing, and Jane feels ill.

They've tortured him.

Fury all but admitted it to her, outside in the hall, when she'd come storming into the compound earlier, demanding to see Loki.

They'd refused at first.

And then she'd begun threatening them, telling them that Thor was by to see her at least once a week (which was a lie. But Thor did come to see her fairly often. Perhaps every month or two.). She'd told them then she would be letting Thor know that they'd essentially beaten the hell out of his little brother and locked him up in a cell, after he'd served his judgment for his crimes both here on Earth, and in Asgard. It wasn't a lie, to tell them that Thor would be extremely unhappy, if he were to find out what they'd done.

Whenever she did see Thor, he still spoke to her about Loki. About how much he missed his brother, and wished he would come back. How he would worry over him, about where he'd gone and what he was doing. About what, possibly, was being done to him.

He tells her Frigga's garden still blooms healthy and with life, and Jane has smiled at that.

Thor loves Loki, Jane knows. He loves him with all his heart. And if he knew… if he knew what was happening now, well… Jane hardly envies SHIELD, or the Avengers at this moment.

She knows Thor has enough power alone to tear both entities apart, should he so choose.

And if Heimdall is watching… if Loki hasn't cloaked himself from the gatekeepers sight, then it doesn't really matter if she ends up telling Thor or not, because he'll know, and he'll be coming.

That collar is still secured around Loki's neck, she sees. Flashing red and green lights interchanging on a timed loop, blearing brightly along its edge.

It's some sort of magic repressor, Fury had explained. Something keeping Loki from accessing his power.

The SHIELD director claims that the physical pain it causes the god was an unexpected side effect. That they hadn't anticipated that to happen. That they still didn't know enough about how "this whole magic thing" worked to understand the consequences of binding a sorcerer's power.

Jane has a hard time believing that, looking over Loki now.

Fury claims their "tactics", as he puts it, were a necessary evil. That they'd been trying to get him to talk, to glean what he was doing back on Earth. Apparently, though, their efforts have been in vain.

Loki, Fury says, hasn't spoken a single word to anyone since he woke up.

Hasn't so much as uttered a cry of pain for their special attentions.

The agents of SHIELD are spooked.

Jane can see it in their body language. The way they hold themselves, and start, however minutely, at every, little, unexpected noise.

Loki scares them.

And she smiles grimly to herself at the thought.

He should.

Loki is _fucking _scary.

Jane doesn't know why exactly she feels this way. Why she's even _here_.

She tries to reason to herself that she's upset on behalf of Thor. That it's because Thor would be horrified if he saw what they'd done to Loki, and she feels some weird obligation to him to make sure his family is okay.

But deep down, she knows it's something beyond that.

Deep down, she knows there's something in her which protests at seeing the god treated this way.

Logically, she thinks she should still hate Loki. Still feel nothing for his own suffering.

He saved her life.

But that doesn't change what he did to ruin so many others. Including Eric's.

And yet, she doesn't know. It's like she sees something in Loki she can't explain.

Something which makes her heart ache in some hopeless pain.

He seems so… lost to her.

Almost like a child.

She scoffs inwardly at the thought.

He's literally _thousands_ of years old. He's lived so long, seen so much, _known_ so much, she can scarcely begin to wrap her mind around it.

But still, the impression is strong within her.

He's _so_ young looking.

She continues staring at him, lost in thought, when the sound of his voice nearly startles a yelp from her lips.

"Ms. Foster." He says, voice hushed in its softness.

And then he lifts his face, and she sees the vicious bruising around his eyes. The dried blood crusted round the nostrils of his fine, long nose, and along his upper lip. The abrasions, ugly and red and stark against his too pale skin.

He smiles at her, and she's both at once unsettled, and struck by how very handsome he is, even through the beaten state of his visage.

His teeth are smeared with blood.

"This is an unexpected surprise." He continues.

And she watches him shift, straightening as much as he can with his hands trapped above his head.

Even chained to a wall, he manages somehow to still look dignified.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He asks.

Jane swallows.

She doesn't understand how he can sound so… _light_… given his situation. Given what's happened.

"Fear not, mortal girl." He bows he head slightly. "I harbor for you no ill will."

His eyes rise up to her again, bright and clear.

"No longer." He says. And he sounds like he means it.

Jane's brow furrows, and at last, she takes a step into the cell, the door swooshing shut behind her, giving a mechanical click as it locks into place.

She should be afraid, being locked in a cell with Loki, she thinks.

For whatever reason, she isn't.

"… Are you alright?" Are the first words which find their way out of her mouth.

For a brief moment, there is a flash of something in his eyes. Something like a mix between confusion and defensiveness.

He sits up straighter even, holding his chin high. And then he smiles, a carefree, easy expression.

"Do not concern yourself, Ms. Foster." He says brightly. "I am hale and whole."

Jane's lips pull into a frown, stepping closer, seeing better the deep contusions which consume his collarbone and run to beneath his shirt.

He's still so skinny.

She doesn't think he's gained any weight since last she saw him.

"They hurt you though." Jane nearly whispers.

And Loki laughs.

Jane's frown deepens.

"Yes," Loki nods after a moment, seeming to have to catch his breath. "well," he shrugs as best he can with his arms restrained as they are. "they have given it their best effort. But these ridiculous mortals, they lack both the stomach and the imagination. They do not begin to grasp the true concept of torture."

His smile widens, and there is the ghost of experience in his eyes. Haunted memories imprinted there.

Jane feels a horrified chill run through her, remembering the sight of his naked back, and the scars upon his face.

"I would offer you a place to sit." Loki's voice cuts in to her thoughts. "But as you can see, the room they've placed me in is rather bare."

Jane reaches up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"That's okay." She says quietly.

Her eyes flick down, away from him finally.

It's bothering her, she realizes, seeing him chained up like this.

"You came back to Earth." She says almost soundlessly. So quiet, she thinks he must not have caught it.

But then she hears him answer.

"Aye." He says.

She looks back to him.

"Why?" She asks bluntly, realizing only a moment later that it's the same question which has been posed to him over and over by SHIELD the last two days, and he hasn't deigned to answer them at all, even when they've tried to force him to.

For a moment, she fears she's messed it all up. That he'll grow angry and rage at her. Or simply shut down and refuse to speak.

But he again only shrugs.

"They think me to have returned in another attempt to subjugate this Realm." He says softly, smiling faintly.

Jane swallows, staring back at him.

"… Have you?" She asks nervously.

Loki's smile grows tight.

Almost… sad.

"No." He answers, looking straight at her.

And then his eyes flash away, face turning down.

"I no longer seek a means to pride." He adds, so quietly, she isn't sure she's even heard him right.

A moment passes, Jane feeling unsure, remaining silent as he continues to face away from her.

Until, abruptly, he straightens again, looking at her.

"I am traveling." He says. "Or rather, was." His smile is bitter now. "I have been to all Nine Realms these past months." He explains. "And some places beyond. Exploring their different cultures and costumes." Here, his smile grows more genuine, before falling abruptly. "Midgard was merely my most recent destination. I should have been more cautious, I admit. Disguised myself, perhaps."

He glances away once more.

"It is only that there are so many of you, and I thought… miscalculated, I suppose, on the chances of me being recognized. Though, truly, even you may wonder at the probability of one of the… _Avengers_, walking into the very same shop I found myself the afternoon before last."

She watches as he leans his head back against the wall, eyes closing, a faint smile playing about his lips.

"I admit delight upon finding a Midgardian baker's shop." He says. "That, if nothing else on this Realm, is similar to Asgard. Though your pastries are of an entirely different sort."

He leans his head back forward, eyes opening, staring at her across from him half-lidded.

His smile is lazy now, and Jane is beginning to wonder at the number of expressions his face holds.

She's never seen anything like it. Never seen a person's face emote so _many_ things, and at times, emote nothing at all.

"It is a weakness of mine." He goes on. "Sweets. Sweet things. One should always admit to their weaknesses Ms. Foster, lest those weaknesses remain unbolstered by strengths and so used against you."

Jane swallows, averting her eyes, cheeks flushing for some reason she can't place.

"They aren't going to let you out of here." She says softly.

"No," he answers. "I should think not."

She glances back to him.

"What are you going to do?" She asks.

She realizes there is a sense of dread within her, being pulled in two opposing directions.

She fears for Loki, for what may be done to him here.

And she fears for those who keep him, for they understand not the power he holds, she thinks.

She finds him staring back at her, that same, confused, almost defensive shadow in his eyes, and again, she wonders over it.

"I will manage, as I always do." He at last answers.

Again, she tucks her hair behind her ear.

"Can… can Heimdall see you?" She asks quietly, looking away.

Loki smirks.

"Now? Yes. With this infernal human device round my neck."

Jane shifts, folding her arms over her chest.

"If Heimdall can see you then, well… I guess Thor could…"

"I do not require a _hero_, Ms. Foster." Loki's voice suddenly cuts her short, harsh and sharp.

Her mouth closes with a snap at the look across his face, eyes blazing at once with unchecked fury and indignation.

They stare at one another a moment, silent, until Jane watches the anger seep away from Loki's features, leaving a blank mask in place.

"… I'm sorry." Jane says, trying to keep her voice calm.

He still scares the hell out of her, even chained up like he is.

"I just thought… I mean…" she shuffles uneasily, crossing her arms. "Couldn't you just tell them the truth, about why you're here I mean?"

Loki laughs suddenly, a light chuckle, and he shakes his head.

"I hardly think they would believe me." He replies. "What reason would they have to?"

That was a good point.

Jane shrugs, looking down, feeling her cheeks flush somewhat.

"I guess they don't." She admits quietly. "Maybe I could…" she shrugs, looking around the cell. "I don't know, maybe I could…"

Again, she hears Loki laugh, though this time it isn't quite so incredulous, more like a tolerating amusement.

Almost… pleasant.

"Compassionate girl." He says. "It is a wonder you mortals survive past a day, hampered as you are by such sentiment."

Loki's words are mocking, but the tone of his voice… he sounds almost fond. And he's smiling at her nearly kindly, good naturedly.

"But no," he goes on after a moment. "I should not require your assistance, Ms. Foster. I assure you I am quite capable on my own."

"I… I know." Jane answers, abruptly worried she's offended him and not even understanding why. "I wasn't saying…"

"You associate with them now?" Loki cuts her off suddenly. "With this… faction of SHIELD?"

Jane blinks, for a moment thrown by his wording.

"Uh, if you mean do I work for them? Then, yeah." She nods. "I do."

Loki nods in return, looking thoughtful.

"And do you find the partnership to your satisfaction?" He presses.

Jane hesitates a moment.

Then shrugs.

"The funding's great." She says. "Pays pretty good. And access to their labs and equipment is nice too."

"You evade the question." Loki smiles. "You speak of the associations many benefits, but do you find _yourself_ satisfied with the arrangement?"

Again, Jane hesitates, actually having to contemplate the question.

And she realizes in that moment, as she had before, and as she considers the god, and what SHIELD has done to him, unprovoked, no, she isn't. She really isn't.

She shakes her head, glancing away.

"Not really." She admits.

"Ah." Loki says. "Too many rules."

She looks back to him, surprise evident across her face.

He's smiling at her again.

"Factions such as your SHIELD," he begins to explain. "they offer the pretense of generosity, so long as you comply by their rules. And such strictness can only ever stifle creativity, I find."

Jane's mouth falls slightly open, eyes widening, because, yes, _yes_! That's it _exactly_!

That's exactly the issue she's found herself having with her new position. Despite all the resources and supposed command she's been given, she feels less in control of her research than she ever has in her life.

And Loki putting it to words like that just now, it's like a light going off in her head, clarity of just how unhappy she's been these past few months, answering to a government agency when before it was all _hers_. _Her_ research. _Her_ baby.

She's struck suddenly and acutely with the desire to be free from it, from the suffocating restrictions she's so recently found placed upon her.

The wrongness she feels in the knowledge that her work is no longer her own.

She's about to speak, to tell Loki what she's just, suddenly come to realize, to thank him even for helping her to it, when she's cut off by the sound of the intercom, and then Fury's agitated voice, flowing over the system.

"That'll be all, Dr. Foster. Times up." He says.

And then the cell door is sliding open with a whoosh, and two guards are entering, there, obviously, to escort her out.

Jane glances at them briefly, before turning back to Loki, finding the god looking at her still, smiling softly.

He bows his head to her.

"As you will, Ms. Foster." He says. "It has been a pleasure."

Jane nods absently.

And then she's being led away, out of the cell, the sound of the door whooshing shut and locking tight behind her filling her ears loud.

/

Four days later, Jane is on the phone, talking to Eric, and he's telling her that Loki has just escaped SHIELD custody in the last hour. Telling her he, _somehow_, talked one of the guards into undoing his cuffs before proceeding to rip the collar round his neck free with his bare hands and vanish from the place in a shock of green light.

Nobody hurt. Nobody killed.

He just… left.

The guard had already been detained and was being interrogated.

He's telling her all of this in a panic, voice thick with undisguised concern for_ her_.

And she's reassuring him, telling him he's worrying needlessly. That more than likely, Loki has simply left the planet entirely, after everything.

And then she hears a soft knock at her front door.

She tells Eric to hold on a minute, placing the phone against her chest as she moves across the living room.

She doesn't even bother checking through the peephole. She assumes it's Darcy, coming to harass her and drag her outside for some "fun in the sun", as she puts it, every Friday morning.

And then she's opening the door, and she's greeted by somebody's chest, clothed in an extremely fine, green and gold embroidered vest. White dress shirt underneath. A scarf to match the vest hanging down over their shoulders.

She stares a moment, confused.

And then she remembers to look up, and her mouth opens, no words forthcoming.

Loki looks back down at her, a wide smile spread across his handsome face.

He bows his head for her, and then looks back up.

"Good morrow, Ms. Foster." He says. "May I come in?"

/

**AN: Long chapter this time guys! Hope you enjoyed it! I SO appreciate all of your guys' feedback on the last chapter, and would love to hear what you thought of this one. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

Jane stares, open mouthed, eyes wide with shock.

Loki only keeps looking back at her, smiling innocently, as though this entire situation is nothing but perfectly normal.

His eyes sparkle in amusement.

Slowly, as in a daze, Jane raises the phone still held against her to her ear.

"Eric," she says distantly. "I have to go."

She doesn't even wait for his reply before ending the call.

And then she's leaning out the door, looking left, and then right down the carpeted hallway of her apartment complex, looking for… she doesn't even _know _what, feeling only minor relief at seeing no one, before she's grabbing Loki's hand without thought, and trying desperately to tug him inside.

At first, she isn't able to move him even an inch, him just standing, stiff and still and looking down at her in plain confusion. It's like trying to pull a tree free from the ground, she thinks. And then her eyes go wide, and she attempts pushing the thoughts from her mind, just as Loki seems to understand what it is she wants, allowing himself to be dragged inside.

Jane wastes no time once he is in closing the door and turning to face him, not bothering to try and hide the panic she feels blooming in her chest from plastering itself across her face.

She stares up at him a moment, words escaping her as he looks back, apparently unfazed by any of this, until finally, her throat decides to start working again, and she blurts out…

"What are you doing here!?"

The expression of amusement doesn't leave his face, smile only stretching, not answering her as he turns and begins, apparently, surveying her small apartment.

His eyes are sharp and considering, and Jane doubts somehow he misses a single detail of the place.

A spike of annoyance shoot through her though, and she forgets to even be afraid of him when he begins moving about the place, bending slightly at the waist every now and then to examine something more closely.

She follows after, lips thinning.

"Loki!" She snaps, annoyance beginning to turn to anger. "What if someone followed you here? Oh God, I'm going to be in such a world of shit if someone saw yo…"

"I assure you," he cuts her short, not even bothering to turn and look at her. "no one saw me."

"But how can you _know_?" She protests, still following him around like this is _his _apartment, not _hers_.

"I deal in stealth, Ms. Foster." He finally stops, turning towards her. "Again, I assure you. I was not followed, nor seen."

His hands fold at his front, perfectly genteel.

"No one but you knows I am here." He finishes.

For a moment, they face off, just staring. Loki's expression blank, maybe vaguely expectant. Jane's own utterly incredulous.

And then she blinks.

And her head shakes.

"No." She says. "No, no, no, no. Loki… Loki, you can't _be_ here. You can't…"

"Do you know," again, he cuts her off, turning once more to examine his surroundings. "many centuries ago, when your people still believed in their gods, and one among us deigned to honor you with our presence," he glances at her briefly, before returning to the portrait of her childhood dog, framed and positioned on her work desk. "it was customary, and complied to without question, that you refer to us as 'My Lord'. In turn, having been a _Prince _of the Aesir," here, there is a tinge of bitterness to his voice. "not only would the mortals of Midgard refer to me thus, but as well the other gods."

Again, he stops, turning to her, another amused smile playing across his lips.

"It would be considered a great insult, Ms. Foster" he goes on. "for any mortal, or any ranked below my station, to refer to me by name only."

Jane says nothing for a long instant, mind, for a horrifying moment, blanking.

She can't tell if he's serious or not.

Though if the smile still evident across his face is any indication…

She blinks, and then she shakes her head.

"Okay, look…" she starts. "how about this. If you just call me Jane, I can just call you Loki? That sound good?"

Her voice is clipped and annoyed, and she doesn't even know why she's _addressing_ this, when he's in _her_ freakin' apartment and she's about to be in a world of shit because of it.

She watches as he bows his head slightly, looking back to her, smile turning to a grin.

"A fair compromise." He replies.

"Great!" She nearly shouts, throwing her hands up. "Perfect! So again, _Loki_, like I said before, I'm sorry, but you can't stay here. You've got to go."

He considers her a moment then, brow furrowing, smile lessening, but still in place, almost… fond.

"One cannot but admire such tenacity in so frail a creature." He says, and Jane's expression turns incredulous.

"_Excuse me_?" She bites, disbelieving.

"True though, is it not?" He asks, once more turning from her and beginning to study another picture. This one of her mother. "You would be considered physically weak, even amongst your mortal peers. "But weakness of body does not equate weakness of will. Your physical vulnerability only makes the strength of your spirit the more exceptional."

But Jane hardly catches the compliment, pride at his declaring her any kind of weak too injured.

"God, you're such a prick!" She spits, and without thought, she raises her hand, lashing out to slap him hard as she can across the arm.

In a flash, he catches her wrist, and though his fingers round her joint aren't even tight, she finds suddenly she can't move her arm even a fraction, completely stilled.

She blinks, shocked.

She hadn't even seen him move.

And then she looks up to his face, and he's looking back to her with such seriousness, she feels her breath catch in her throat.

His head shakes.

"You will hurt yourself." He says. And there isn't any mocking in his voice. No joke.

He holds her a moment more, regarding her closely, as though he is trying to assess whether she understands or not.

And then, slowly, he loosens his grasp, and turns away.

Unconsciously, Jane takes hold of her wrist and rubs it, despite the fact he didn't hurt her at all.

She thinks it's maybe the thought that he could have. He could have so easily…

"The truth is, Jane…" he begins, and his voice is almost too soft to hear.

She watches as he moves towards the bookcase, pressed up against the wall behind her desk. Watches as he splays his fingers wide along one of the shelves, just standing there, head bowed.

For a moment, he's silent.

"The truth is, I have very few options available to me at the moment."

He turns again, striding to the other side of the room, still not looking at her as he continues.

"There are… hostilities towards me still throughout many of the Nine Realms, and… many of the places beyond as well…"

Once more, he pauses, standing stiff and still.

And then, abruptly, he turns to her, and he says…

"I had hoped to seek refuge for a time, here on Midgard. I had hoped…"

Suddenly, he pauses, and looks towards the front door, his already rigid frame growing tighter.

"Someone is coming." He breaths quietly, and Jane's eyes widen.

"What?" She asks.

And then there's a knock at the door, and Jane's head snaps in the sounds direction, frozen for a moment as panic takes hold.

"Oh shit…" she says. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…"

Loki is looking at her with clear confusion across his brow.

And then Darcy's voice is floating through the door.

"Jane!" Another knock. "Bitch, I know you're in there! Open up!"

Loki's eyebrow raises in obvious questioning, looking at Jane.

But she's already moving towards him, taking his hand and trying to drag him towards the bedroom.

"You have to hide!" She hisses. "Hurry!"

And now a grin is breaking out over the god's features, barely suppressed laughter threatening to make its way up his throat.

"Jane! Come on! I totally hear you in there!" Darcy calls again.

"I… I'll be there in just a minute!" Jane calls back over her shoulder, just as she manages to shove Loki through the doorway to her bedroom.

"Stay… just…" she looks back behind her, then towards him again. "Just stay here. Don't go anywhere. Don't make any noise."

And before Loki can speak a word in reply, she's slamming the door shut in his face, seconds later, the sound of Jane speaking to some other woman floating through the thin wood to reach him.

And then there is only silence, and the sound of a door closing shut.

/

It's late, when Jane finally gets back.

She'd kept trying to break away, to cut her outing with Darcy short. Or at least, that's what Jane tells herself.

That it has nothing to do with the secret hope that when she returned, the entire affair will have turned out to be nothing but an extremely elaborate product of her over worked imagination.

Logic tells her the improbability of that. But when has hope ever had a thing to do with logic?

But Darcy had insisted on dragging her from one amusement to another, chastising the physicist over how little fun she actually allowed herself to have, and Jane, if she was being honest with herself, knows she hadn't really put up all that much of a fight.

And she knows why, standing here now, outside her apartment door, hand frozen on the knob, key sat, unturned, in the lock.

What if Loki's still here?

What if he hasn't left?

What the _hell_ is she going to do?!

She closes her eyes, breathing deep.

"_Okay Jane_," she tells herself silently. "_just stay calm. It's okay. It's all okay_."

Yeah… right.

More than likely, Loki's still here. She'd _told _him to stay before Darcy had swept her off, and knowing what she did of Loki, which admittedly, was next to nothing still, he would take her panic induced instructions as an invitation to crash at her pad.

Which means, then, that she's harboring a God damned WAR criminal and psycho, alien god magician whatever the fuck he is in her apartment, and when SHIELD finds out… she's fucked.

She's so, so fucked.

Oh God, why the hell did these things have to happen to her?

She'd have to come up with a way to get rid of him, to convince him to leave, because this just couldn't happen.

This _wasn't_ okay.

Finally, after nearly a minute of just standing there, Jane steels herself, and turns the key in its lock, hearing it click open.

It's perhaps another thirty seconds before she feels brave enough to turn the knob and push the door open.

And when she does, she only has the courage to stick her head in through the crack and glance around.

"… Loki?" She calls as quietly as she can, eyes scanning over the place.

There comes no reply, and she pushes the door open wider, for one, fleeting moment, allowing herself the hope that maybe he really _has_ gone.

She steps through the threshold, closing the door softly behind her and calling out his name again, eyes moving over the small space.

And then she sees him.

He's on the floor, lying half turned onto his stomach at the foot of her desk, one arm curled beneath him, pressed against his chest, the other stretched out above his head. His legs are splayed straight back.

He's still dressed in the same suit he was wearing earlier, only the jacket and scarf are removed, as are the loafers he'd had on.

His eyes are closed, face relaxed, mouth slightly parted as he breaths steadily in and out.

And in a moment of shocked disbelief, Jane realizes suddenly that… he's sleeping.

She swallows, moving forward as quietly as she can, placing her keys down softly on the coffee table between the couch and television, never taking her eyes from him.

And the first thought to enter her mind is just how very young he looks.

It isn't the first time she's been struck with the impression.

But seeing him there like this, slack and unconscious and all of his rigid, detached manner put away, all of his masks gone…

He is as a boy.

Thin and small and vulnerable…

And so, _so_ young.

She can see him breathing, just barely, the breaths shallow and too quick for rest. Every, few seconds, a twitch works through the fingers of his hands and through his feet, sometimes across his otherwise still face.

She wonders if he's dreaming.

And she remembers the dream Loki woke from in The Dark World. The gasp which tore from his lips.

The fear in his eyes…

It's late, she tells herself.

Too late to wake him and ask him to go.

Too much of a hassle.

Maybe she'll just let him stay the night then, and she can tell him to go in the morning.

That sounds like a plan.

Only because it's too much of a hassle, she tells herself.

Only because of that…

/

When she wakes, the apartment is almost entirely dark, save for the soft light of the moon, filtering through the windows, and she realizes groggily that it must be the middle of the night, though she doesn't remember having turned out any of the lights before she'd…

Her brow furrows, head clearing more, and she recalls suddenly having curled up on the living room couch, book in hand.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, but…

She becomes abruptly aware of something soft and warm, lying across her, the feel of the thick, velvety material clutched between her fingers, and she shifts her face slightly to look down, seeing a swatch of deep green.

She realizes with a start what it is.

Loki's cloak.

The one she'd tried all those months ago, before leaving Asgard, to give back to Thor. And she remembers Thor shaking his head and telling her no, that it had been gifted to her by his brother. Which meant it was hers to keep.

She hadn't been able to believe it at the time, not understanding. Why Loki would just give her something which, according to Thor, was literally _centuries _old and which was probably invaluable, if anyone ever knew what it actually _was_ and who it had belonged to?

But Thor had insisted, and so she'd ended up taking it with her, back to Earth, and stowing it away in her closet, along the top shelf.

How it had ended up draped across her like a blanket, she had no idea.

And then, in a flash, she remembers.

Loki.

And in seemingly the same instant the memory breeches through the fog of her sleep addled brain, there is a soft sound ahead of her, from the kitchen, and in the following moment, the light from the refrigerator is piercing the dark, illuminating the small area, and she sees Loki, standing there, bent at the waist as he looks inside the cold box.

For a moment, he doesn't move, and she watches him from the side as he studies the contents of the fridge.

From what she can see of his face, bathed in the yellow light, all sharp angles fallen and contrasting in shadow, he seems curious. Maybe even a little… overwhelmed?

His head keeps lowering and rising, presumably looking over all the food inside, and Jane suddenly wonders if Loki has ever even seen a refrigerator before.

There certainly weren't any that she had seen on Asgard, though there'd been ice boxes for meat and other perishable items.

She'd thought at the time that it was bizarre, really, how such an advanced race and culture could be lacking such basic modern day technologies like electricity and computers and… well… just about everything one would associate with the modern era.

But everything in Asgard was based on magic… not… science. Thor had been mistaken there. Science and magic, as far as Jane could figure, weren't really anything alike at all.

She watches as, finally, Loki moves, reaching into the refrigerator, and a moment later, she sees him retract his hand, and grasped between his long, thin, white fingers, is a can of Pepsi.

Loki straightens, bringing the unopened beverage closer to his face, seeming to study it intently, and Jane realizes in almost amused disbelief that Loki has probably never seen soda before. Probably never tasted it. Not if his expression now is anything to go on.

He turns the thing over in his hand, examining it from every, possible angle, at one point lifting it and pressing it against his face.

He starts slightly, Jane assumes at how cold it is, and she smiles, suddenly taken by the urge to laugh at how surreally cute it is.

He pulls it away, eyes narrowing suspiciously. And then he begins fumbling with it, shaking it lightly and turning it round and round. He must hear the liquid sloshing around inside, because then, Jane realizes, he's trying to figure out how to open the thing.

He begins fiddling then with the tab on top of the can, and for a moment, Jane thinks he'll actually figure it out. But then the thing snaps off, and Loki's look of confusion only grows, bringing the thing up and blinking at it.

Jane actually has to suppress a giggle.

And then she sees him press his index finger against the can's still sealed opening, and with what seems no pressure at all, it breaks open, and immediately, the jostled contents come swelling out.

Loki's eyes go slightly wide with surprise as the carbonized liquid sloshes over his hand, and almost immediately, almost hastily, he places the can down on the counter, gazing at it with mistrustful eyes.

For several, long seconds, he just stands there, looking at it, watching the fizzed beverage bubble and pour over the can's rim, before finally settling out.

For a moment more, he remains motionless, and then he bends closer, looking intently at the can, before straightening and raising his still wet hand, bringing it to his nose and sniffing at it.

Jane can't make out if his expression changes at all, but then he's reaching for the can again and picking it up, bringing it closer to his face.

He sniffs it a few times, and then he's awkwardly bringing it to his lips, clumsily trying to take a sip.

It's painfully obvious he's never drunk from a can before, some of the soda escaping past the rim and his lips, dribbling down his chin.

But it's clear some of it makes it to its intended destination, as Loki snorts, jerking the can away almost violently, shaking his head and blinking a few times at it.

Jane's smile widens, and she bites her lip now to keep from laughing.

She has no doubt in her mind the god might actually kill her for thinking he's cute.

If it seemed he didn't like the Pepsi, he's clearly in the least intrigued, as he ends up bringing the can back for another taste, adjusting it around so that the opening is better facing him, and he sips more carefully this time, pulling it away after a moment, more calmly, a considering look on his face.

And then he's closing the fridge door, and Jane's watching him beginning to explore around the counter and cupboards, soda held securely in his right hand.

Every once in a while, he takes an absentminded sip from it.

And then he finds the box of Twinkies, and there's the faint sound of crinkling plastic as he reaches in and pulls one of the individually wrapped cakes out, looking at it with the same wary curiosity he had the soda.

But on this, he seems to make his mind up more quickly, taking the pastry and moving with it, along with the Pepsi, towards the same spot Jane had earlier found him sleeping.

She watches silently then as he lowers himself to the floor, not missing the way the lines of his face harden somewhat, like he's in pain or something, or how stiffly he moves as he gets down onto his knees, and then crosses his legs.

Something about the sight makes Jane's heart clench unpleasantly, remembering the state she'd found him in back at SHIELD HQ, the obvious signs of his having been beaten.

The bruises and lacerations are all gone now. At least, those on his face. But it suddenly occurs to Jane how difficult it would be to actually _do_ that to Loki, to actually hurt him. How hard you would have to hit him to cause even the slightest bruising, let alone…

She feels suddenly, unpleasantly ill at the thought, squashing it quickly, eyes focusing back on the god.

He's laid his small lot out in front of him on the floor, just staring down at it for a long moment.

Something about the sight strikes Jane as sad.

It's just so… little, all of it.

Loki's so thin, she notices again, and she finds herself wondering when the last time was he ate.

And then he's picking up the Twinkie, examining the wrapper a moment more before, with strange delicacy, he begins to tear it open at the edge, ripping it slowly.

It takes longer than it should for him to get the cake free, and when he does, he seems to study the crumpled plastic a moment more, before turning his attention to the food, squeezing it lightly between his fingers, bringing it close to his nose and smelling.

His tongue flicks out briefly against it, brow furrowing at whatever he detects.

A few more, apprehensive seconds, and at last, he sinks his teeth into it.

Cream filling squishes out, catching along the corner of his mouth, and Loki's eyes go wide, unexpecting.

He pulls the cake away, staring at it in bemusement, and Jane sees his tongue flicker out, lapping up the misdirected filling from his lip.

It seems to take him a moment to regain his confidence, and when he does, his bites are small, almost… dainty.

Occasionally, he'll take a sip from the soda can.

It must be some twenty minutes which go by, and still, Loki has yet to finish his tiny, nutritionally lacking meal.

Until, eventually, Jane's still exhausted state again begins to catch up with her, her eyelids drooping heavy, and then closing.

She thinks vaguely that this is unsafe. That she should be concerned, falling asleep with a psychotic trickster god sitting not fifteen feet from her.

She _should _be concerned.

Her hands grip tighter in the material of the green cloak which somehow found its way across her while she slept, pulling it closer.

She should be…

… Somehow, she isn't.

/

**AN: Sooooo, who's freakin' over the new Thor trailer!? **

**Hope you liked the chapter! Let me know what you all think!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

When Jane wakes the next morning, it is to the smell of cooking bacon and eggs, and then of warming toast.

For a moment, she thinks she must still be dreaming, her mind confusing at the unaccustomed scent of cooking breakfast foods wafting through her apartment. She lives alone, after all, and rarely does she have or make the time in the morning to make herself anything more extravagant than a pop-tart or to grab a stale doughnut from the box if either Darcy or Eric had happened to bring some over the day before.

And then she hears the soft sound of cupboards opening and closing, and her eyes creak open blearily, blinking a few times to adjust to the light, pouring in through the window.

And when finally her vision clears, she sees him there, standing with his back to her, rummaging through the cabinets, pulling plates and bowls. He's dressed in what looks like a green button down shirt and black dress slacks, hair smoothed back tightly against his head.

For an instant, her mind refuses to believe he's actually there.

And then he turns around, his too clear eyes landing on her, and he smiles, a row of perfectly straight, white teeth becoming exposed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in seemingly boyish charm. He's impossible looking, too handsome to exist.

And she's _certain _then a moment this can't be real.

His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, showing off the sinewy muscle of his forearms, thin and pale and perfect. He's setting two plates down on the counter.

"Good morrow Jane." He says. "I trust you slept well?"

She's staring at his arms, seemingly dazed a moment, before she seems to register his words, and her eyes flit back to his face, blinking.

"Um…" she begins, voice slurring slightly from the sleep still in her veins. And then she pushes herself up, feeling the cloak slip from her shoulders, glancing down at it in a haze, and then back to him. "You're still here…" she says, sounding confused, gaze shifting around him, trying to see the pan's she's sure are cooking on the stove.

The smell is unexpectedly enticing, and she feels her stomach grumble.

"Evidently." Loki replies smoothly, and then he turns, and he's fiddling around with something on the stove, his figure blocking her view still.

"Was I wrong to assume your invitation?" He continues.

For a moment, Jane just watches him, unsure of what to say.

She remembers telling herself last night that she was going to tell him to go in the morning, but suddenly the prospect seems unreasonably daunting, especially when he turns around, brows raised in questioning.

He's holding a pan now, scraping what looks like scrambled eggs off onto the two plates he's set out, and when the hell did Loki learn to cook on an electric stove?

"If you wish for me to depart, I shall burden you no longer Jane." He's saying, eyes focused on his task. "Only allow me to finish preparing you your meal. I have noticed an overabundance of easily accessible but nutritionally lacking foodstuffs about your place of shelter, and made the judgment that your oft bedraggled appearance and lowered energy can be attributed, at least in part, to the fact that you rarely eat properly."

Jane blinks.

"… I'm sorry," she says. "but, _what_?"

Loki looks up at her, nodding his head towards the food.

"Come and eat _breakfast _Jane." He says. "It would do you well."

Okay… what the hell is going on here?

Briefly, the thought flashes through Jane's head that she should pinch herself and make sure she's not still sleeping, because this is all a bit too surreal to _be_ real.

Loki, _the Norse god of Mischief_, is standing in her kitchen, mother henning her about eating a nutritionally balanced meal.

When the fuck did her life get so weird?

Slowly, she swings her legs forward, off of the couch, planting her hands palm down along the ratty cushions before carefully lifting herself up to her feet.

Loki is watching her, apparently expectantly, as Jane stretches, popping her joints and grimacing at the pain in her lower back. That's what she gets for sleeping on the damned sofa.

And then she begins to make her way towards him, still trying to wrap her mind around this entire situation.

She remembers _why_ she'd decided he couldn't stay. She hadn't even really thought about it. He was, essentially, a fugitive from SHIELD, the same SHIELD she found herself currently employed by, though she'd been rethinking that position for the last few days. If she was somehow found out harboring him, she had no idea what would happen, but she was certain it couldn't be good.

As she draws nearer to him, rounding the island, finally, the oven comes into view, and for a moment, she blinks, eyes widening at the sight.

The pans she'd assumed were cooking on the stovetop aren't, in fact. They're floating maybe an inch or two off the top, underneath them, a low, _green_ flame flickering, small tendrils of smoke and heat rising off the top.

She blinks, and Loki must notice her perplexed and shocked expression, because she hears him say, a hint of amusement in his voice…

"Though I was able to ascertain its use, I found some difficulty understanding how to work this… contraption of yours." He waves an idle hand over the stove. "I hope you are not offended, I took the liberty of applying my own methods thus."

Jane swallows, eyes still fixed on the bizarre sight of her cookware floating in the air and sizzling atop a green fire, snapping out of her mesmerized state only when Loki suddenly takes hold of the pan and lifts it, the flame disappearing.

And then he's scrapping strips of bacon off, onto the plates on the counter, next to the eggs.

It all looks perfectly cooked.

Her stomach grumbles again.

Loki is moving over to her refrigerator then, opening it up, pulling out the orange juice like he freakin' owns the place, coming back around and pouring out two glasses.

He makes another one of those delicate, odd gestures with his hand, and out of seemingly no where, two forks appears in his grasp, intricately designed and made from looks like sterling silver. They sure a shit aren't hers.

He places one each on the plates, and then he's lifting one and a glass of juice, and handing them to her, a relaxed smile on his face.

Jane gawks, staring first at the proffered meal, and then back to his face, and again to the food before finally settling her gaze on him.

"Loki," she says, voice edged harder than she'd intended. "what are you doing?"

He blinks, hands pulling back slightly, expression momentarily blank.

"Beg pardon?" He asks.

"_This_." Jane gestures almost wildly about them, then towards the offered food. "Why are you…" her head shakes. "I mean, why are you _here_ Loki? What is this?"

The oddest look passes over the god's face then, something strangely like hurt, or… or disappointment flashing in his eyes, gone in the instant after. And Jane would swear she'd imagined it if she weren't looking right at him, but his entire form seems almost to deflate, shoulders slumping, if only slightly, and he places the plate and glass back down on the counter before suddenly straightening up, poise returning.

"I explained myself to you yesterday, did I not?" He asks.

"You _started_ to," Jane answers quickly. "but then Darcy interrupted, and…"

"Ah," Loki cuts in. "yes. Your faithful assistant."

Jane's face blanches slightly, realizing she'd just mentioned Darcy in front of him, an unwilling fear working through her guts.

The fear must show on her face, because Loki then smiles softly, the expression seemingly genuine.

"Fear not, Jane." He says. "I harbor no designs on your friend."

Jane swallows, the rigidity she hadn't even realized had worked into her frame relaxing somewhat.

Loki sighs, turning away from her at last, and for a moment, he just stands there, back to her, saying nothing.

She watches his head dip, hands folding at his back.

And then he begins to speak.

"I find myself…" he pauses, and very minutely, Jane can make out the tension in his thin frame. "met with some hostility… from a great many in the Realms I've traversed these past months."

He laughs, the sound bitter and resigned as he straightens to his full height and turns to look at her.

"One cannot deny my deservedness of such. Ever have I been of the unpopular sort, and my mischief throughout the centuries has only compounded the dislike."

He grins, and Jane feels a thread of unease work through her.

"I had hoped to find some modicum of rest… since my departure from the Realm Eternal, but alas… the Norns have not found the kindness within themselves to grant me such."

Once more, he turns from her, looking out over her tiny apartment.

"Midgard was a last resort." He explains. "The populace here is so abundant, I thought perhaps I would go unnoticed. Just another face, lost in a crowd of billions…"

He shrugs, hands still clasped behind him.

"A miscalculation on my part." He goes on. "I should have realized I would be recognized quickly. I could disguise myself, certainly, or keep myself shielded from the sight of others, but… the drain on my energy would eventually…"

He trails off, looking down.

She sees him swallow, and if Jane didn't know any better, she would swear there is an air of nervousness about him.

"… I have no place else, you see…" he says, so quietly, she barely hears it. "No place else to go…"

Jane thinks, logically, this must be a trick.

Trickster god.

Loki must be lying. Appealing to her sympathy, trying to make her feel sorry for him.

That's, logically, what her mind tells her.

Looking at him though, skilled a liar though she knows he is, she cannot find a trace of such in his weary, exhausted frame, or the hesitant, almost humiliated tone of his low voice.

She feels _bad_ for him, despite her reasoning.

He looks so… lost.

And then there's his state.

He doesn't look as though he's gained an ounce in all the months since she saw him last, the circles under his eyes deep and dark as bruises, face drawn and gaunt and exhausted.

He looks like he hasn't slept at all in weeks.

"What about Asgard?" She finally asks, and Loki laughs, no actual mirth in the sound.

"Aye," he replies. "I suppose I could go back to that place."

He turns to her again, looking at her askance.

"But, I am hated there as anywhere. Perhaps more. Thor, sentimental fool that he is, may do his utmost to keep me safe, but there is only so much even the mighty thunderer can do. I would be attacked, eventually. Frost Giants, you understand, are not well accepted there, compounded with the already general disdain I am faced with from the Aesir. And with Odin back on the throne, he would doubtless insist on once more imprisoning me, since it was not his decree, but my oafish brother's that I be released. And since I do not relish the thought of imprisonment…"

For a moment, they just stare back at one another, saying nothing.

And then Jane sighs, and Loki says…

"If you wish for me to go Jane, I will. It is not a thing easy for me… begging your hospitality. I am a prideful creature, I can admit to that."

Jane sighs, shaking her head, bringing her fingers to her temples and massaging in a show of frustration.

"Oh, God, I am so going to regret this." She mutters.

Loki's face splits into a wide grin.

"Gods, dear Jane." He says in return. "There are more than one of us, you will recall."

/

"I have noticed," Loki begins as Jane digs her fork back into the eggs, unashamedly stuffing them into her mouth.

Who knew the God of Mischief would be such a good cook?

"you mortals have an unfortunate habit of wrapping your foods in odd materials." He waves his hand, and out of nowhere, suddenly, the wrapping from the Twinkie he'd eaten last night, and the can of Pepsi appeared between them upon the dining table.

Jane stares a moment, bemused.

"I have observed these materials to be largely in-disposable and that, thusly, they gather in great quantities throughout the Realm, cluttering the ground and hindering the natural integrity of the land."

His face turns almost sour in disapproval, shaking his head.

"Midgard has become much uglier since I visited here in my youth. You take such poor care of it."

Jane swallows her food, blinking.

"And there are so _many_ of you." Loki goes on, undeterred by her blank expression. "More and more every year. This gathering of waste which you produce with your existence never seems to diminish. I fear that, soon, you shall all find yourselves overwhelmed by it."

For an instant, Jane isn't sure whether she should laugh, or be insulted.

"You're worried about waste management on Earth?" She asks finally, not bothering to hide the disbelief in her voice.

Loki shrugs.

"It is only something I have noticed as unique amongst you mortals. No other Realm has such a situation. I wonder, indeed, how you… _manage _it."

"We burn it." Jane answers quickly. "A lot of it. Or stockpile it sort of, in places called landfills, burying it."

Loki smiles ruefully.

"Well, that cannot be well for this Realm's general atmosphere or land, then can it?"

Jane frowns then. He's right. Of course he's right. But where this conversation is headed…

"No." She admits. "It isn't."

He nods.

"Why?" She blurts in an almost hostile tone, unable to help herself in her growing unease. "Are you thinking you would have _handled_ the problem if you'd taken over our planet?"

Loki smirks, and then chuckles.

"I could rid you of the dilemma now, I should think. But it would do you mortals little good, for another to solve your own, self-induced troubles. Had I succeeded in my attempts to rule you then, yes, I would have aided your people in this."

Jane stares back at him, face pulled in incredulousness.

"You're justifying your actions." She says plainly, not a question.

"I elaborate for you on my intentions." Loki says back. "It is neither a justification nor a repentance. It merely is a statement of fact."

Jane's eyes narrow, and unexpectedly, she feels a well of anger bubble up inside her chest.

"Do you feel sorry for what you did? I mean, _at all_?" She asks, not caring that the anger is bleeding through into her voice. "Do you even feel any guilt? For all those people you _murdered_?"

For a long moment, Loki regards her with those frighteningly sharp eyes, saying nothing, face blank, unreadable as ever.

Until finally, his eyes slide away, looking down at his own, mostly untouched plate of food.

"I do not." He says, so softly she almost misses it.

Jane's mouth drops open in disbelief, and for a blazing moment, she thinks of telling him to get the hell out, right now. She remembers all those thoughts and fears of him, when they'd been in the land of the Dark Elves, thinking of him as a sociopath, and a psychopath, and a monster. And he's all but said so flatly now. Admitted it about himself.

"_How_?" She blurts, dismayed. "How can you not feel anything? How can you not care? Do you know how many lives you destroyed? How many lives you ende…"

"You understand not, for the culture you were raised in, Jane." He cuts her off abruptly. His eyes lift back to her, and they are hard and bright and shining with some emotion she can't put a name to.

She stares back at him, all thought momentarily coming to a halt in her brain.

He breaths in, letting it go in a quiet sigh, before again he turns from her, looking out over the room.

"I was raised in a world beholden to violence, to bloodshed and war. Midgard was once as this." He looks back to her. "Is still as this, if less overtly so. But war still rules. The struggle for power, for control. For the imposition of ideas and beliefs and standards. Empires are built in blood, Jane." He says, and his voice is so cold, so matter of fact. "Power is gained through oppression. Your society today proclaims righteous virtues and fair treatment of all peoples. And yet, you have grown so concerned with the image of appearing just and kind, that you do more harm than good. You fear for your reputations, and so refrain from harming civilian populaces in your waged wars. But in doing so, you invite unending conflict, and thus greater bloodshed and strife. Wars in which none win, and lives are lost without purpose or gain. You do you and your kind greater harm in denying your natures."

Loki's face in pulled in harsh, angry lines now, and Jane feels a trickle of fear course through her veins.

"Brutality wins peace Jane. Fear wins peace. And it is in peace complacency in born, and violence again breaks loose. It is a never ending struggle. For sentient beings of free thought and will will forever be discontent with their lot, and think for themselves something better. Something grander. Will always convince themselves of their own rightness, and the greater good to be gained by imposing those beliefs of others."

He smiles then, sharp and cruel.

"You judge me for my supposedly callous and unsympathetic regard for life, and yet you fail to take into account the vast differences between your ingrained values and mine. The differences between our worlds. You spend your days idling away on your computers and electronic devices. You see your moving pictures of the violence and destruction caused by your own kind, but it is happening far from you, and you make some off-hand comment about how terrible it is, and how your heart bleeds for your fallen man, before moving on with your general routine and forgetting it entirely, untouched, unbothered. You know naught the true horrors of war. You know naught its true nature. And yet you condemn it and think yourself qualified to stand in judgment upon it."

Suddenly, the mischief god leans closer to her, voice lowering.

"I have fought in thousands of battles over thousands of years Jane. I have spilt the blood of thousands more than those who lost their lives here by my hand and my actions. All in the name of Asgard. In the name of her ideals and her conquests. All in the belief of her superiority and rightness."

He leans back, never breaking his gaze with her.

"As has Thor. As has Odin, and Heimdall, and Tyr. As has the entire, elite guard of my world. War is the Aesir's lifeblood. It is what we live for, and we never have known anything other. And yet I am to concern myself with the lives of a few hundred Midgardians, out of a populace of _billions_?"

He shakes his head.

"No Jane. I feel no guilt in this. And who is to tell me I am wrong? The moral standards of your United States? A country just barely older than two centuries? I have lived for over _five thousand _of your Midgardian _years_, Jane. In five thousand more, if still I live, I will appear no older than I do now, sitting before you. I will still be thought _young _among my people.

I have witnessed innumerable and vast changes in the standards and structures and laws by which your people govern themselves in that time, and I assure you, those things will continue to change and shift, until what you consider barbaric and evil today will again, someday, be thought acceptable and true. And what you now think to be just and fair will someday be thought taboo and savage.

So do not speak to me of right and wrong, Jane Foster. Do not speak to me of what I should and should not feel, what I can and cannot do. What is true and what is false. You understand nothing, _nothing_ of the universe and its workings. Nothing of the powers which govern us all, and will continue to do so, long after your people are gone and erased from existence. You know naught of my life, or the things I have seen. Naught of what I have known and felt. And if ever you did, you would not understand what you had glimpsed, but only be overcome with a despair and hopelessness to crush your spirit utterly with the sense of how irrelevant everything you have ever thought you knew truly is."

For a moment longer, he looks back at her, gaze hard and unyielding, and she looks back, mouth slightly slacked with astonishment.

Until at last, the god looks away, picking up his forgotten fork, sifting through his doubtless cold eggs, pushing them around the plate absently.

And Jane can hardly believe it, but she feels an actual kind of embarrassment, a kind of _shame_ for having derided Loki then.

She hadn't ever thought of it like that.

She hadn't ever considered that he grew up in a world, in a culture where that kind of thing, where violence and war and battle were an every day occurrence, an every day reality.

Hadn't considered how _long_ he's lived, and how much he must have seen in that time, how much he'd experienced.

She had only been measuring Loki and his actions by what she herself knew and understood. How she herself perceived the world. It was the only way she _could_ measure him.

But she realizes then, very abruptly, how actually unfair that truly is.

How impossible…

Eventually, she pulls her eyes from him, looking down, folding her hands in her lap.

"… You're right." She says, nearly a whisper.

Loki stills, sitting a long second before his head lifts, staring curiously at her.

"I have no standing to judge you." She goes on, forcing her eyes up to meet his. "I can't even… _conceive_ of how long you've been alive. I can't wrap my head around it. Can't imagine the things you've seen."

She glances away again, fidgeting nervously.

"It's stupid of me to try, and to try and hold you to the same standards I would myself. I keep forgetting you aren't human."

She glances back, and an uneasy laugh escapes her lips.

"They call that anthropomorphism, you know. When people try and apply their own traits and way of thinking onto animals and beings which aren't human."

She sighs, glancing away. It's hard for her to hold her gaze with Loki, his own is so unrelenting and sharp.

"I don't agree with what you did. I can't justify it, or… or call it right, or okay. But… but that's by my standards, and I can't expect you to agree with me either, or understand why I think what you did is wrong. I can't expect you to think of things the way I do, because we come from completely different worlds and I'm… I'm being biased and shortsighted, trying to force you into my way of thinking."

She falls silent then, fingers curling into the material of her pants, twisting anxiously.

She's suddenly too afraid to look up at him. She thinks, suddenly, that he must think she's ridiculous, and she imagines any moment she'll hear his mocking laughter and derision for her stupidity.

And so she isn't ready at all, when suddenly she feels the cool touch of his fingers around her arm, and she looks up, startled, seeing him leaned across the table, grasping her gently. He's looking into her face with such an intent and serious gaze, she finds herself unable to look away. She swallows thickly, terrified suddenly of what he's going to do.

And then he smiles, only faintly, and nods at her.

"You continue to win my admiration, Jane." He says. "For the cleverness you prove in how well you listen, you are a child of wisdom indeed."

She looks back at him, saying nothing for a long instant, before vaguely she nods, eyes finally flashing down, an embarrassed heat rising to her cheeks. She's _blushing_, and she doesn't even know why.

Loki smiles, his fingers at last sliding free from her arm, leaving a tingling sensation behind against her skin, and Jane wonders if it's only an affect of his clearly lower body temperature.

"Splendid!" She hears him says, and then hears him clap his hands together. "So, what then is on the agenda for today!?"

/

**AN: As always guys, thanks so much for all your support! I hope you're still enjoying the story!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Jane never would have thought to call Loki, Norse god of Mischief and Lies, a clothes whore.

But that's about the only term she can think up as she sits here, watching him come out of the dressing room, decked out in what must be his tenth outfit, turning with his arms spread wide and asking her what she thinks.

What she thinks is that this is insane, and unreal, and all kinds of dangerous that she just doesn't want anything to do with, _at all_.

Loki, after asking her what they should do that day, hadn't even given her a chance to answer before his face had lit up in a ridiculously wide grin and he'd announced that they should "go to market".

Jane, using logic, had told him that was an unspeakably bad idea, and proceeded to list about a million and one reasons for _why_, chief among them being he would be recognized, and when that happened, they'd both be screwed.

And he had simply shaken his head, smile never fading, and then he'd… he'd…

Well, he'd _shape-shifted_, for lack of a better term.

Jane had stood, watching in paralyzed astonishment, as his entire face and form had changed into an entirely different person.

He had lost about three inches off his height. His hair had shortened even further, and had faded from an impossibly pitch black to a raspberry blonde, from straight and slicked back to curly and messy.

His lips had grown fuller, and his jaw had squared, face shifting from long and lean to wider and harder, brow ridge growing more pronounced, and nose more crooked. His vivid green eyes had changed to a light blue, and a goatee the same shade as his hair had sprouted along his face. And he was left standing in a pair of worn out looking jeans and a t-shirt, covering a frame decidedly more stocky and thick than his true build.

The entire process had taken less then a few seconds, and Jane had been left, standing across from a complete stranger.

Except for the eyes.

It was in Loki's eyes, you could see it was still him. Still with that disconcerting intelligence, shining brilliantly, bright and _alive_, in a way Jane still couldn't quite understand, or believe.

He had smirked at her, and reached out an arm, offering "shall we", spoken in a voice as utterly changed as his appearance. A common, Brooklyn accent coming through, and Jane, still to her embarrassment, had actually jerked in startlement, and Loki had laughed.

And now here they were, and Jane is growing twitchy.

She swears, Loki is like a woman in how much he loves to shop for clothes.

He's switched back to his normal form in the privacy of the dressing rooms.

"Well?" He asks, standing there in a beautifully cut designer suit. They're in Sacks Fifth Avenue, and everything he's tried on thus far has been Armani, or Valentino or some other insanely overpriced fashion giant label.

"You look great." She answers blandly, and Loki frowns.

"You've hardly taken note." He says, sounding… disappointed?

Jane blinks.

And then she sighs, running her hands over her face. Jesus, how long have they been here?

"Loki," she begins, unable to keep the edge of annoyance out of her tone. "what is that, like, the twentieth suit you've tried on?"

"Seventh." He says.

"Whatever." She snaps back. "Look, you'd look good in a _plastic bag_. Seriously. Why are you even asking me what I think?"

"The critical eye of a woman is invaluable in judging one's appearance." He replies, as though the answer is obvious. "I would value your opinion."

Jane throws her hands up.

"Loki, look, you're _gorgeous_! Okay?! You look fucking beautiful! Like you've looked beautiful in everything you've tried on for the past hour and a half or whatever it's been. Can we just get out of here now?"

And like a blanket being thrown across his face, the god's expression goes blank, and then there is the briefest flash of what Jane thinks is rage, glittering in his eyes, and for an instant, her heart hammers painfully in her chest.

"Do not mock me, Jane Foster." He says, voice icily calm and cold.

"… What?" Jane blinks, confused.

And Loki is standing stiffly now, rigid. Almost… guarded.

"I know my own appearance, Jane Foster. You need not antagonize me for it. I have had well enough of that for centuries."

Jane's brow furrows, confusion only deepening.

"Loki, what are you even tal…"

"I know I am not _Thor_." He cuts her off, voice sharp and angry.

And suddenly it dawns on her, and she feels her heart sink, and her stomach twist in sickened knots.

"Loki…" she breaths quietly, looking at him seriously. Her head shakes. "I wasn't making fun of you."

He's glaring back at her, eyes narrowed in obvious mistrust, and she feels her heart sink further, her throat tighten.

What happened to him, she wonders, to have made him like this? To have made him so defensive, so suspicious?

To believe when someone pays him a compliment, that they can only be playing some cruel joke?

She recalls, suddenly, some of the things said by both brothers on their journey before. Thor telling her with regret thick in his voice that he wasn't a good brother. Loki accusing him and his friends with ragged resignation of purposefully causing him humiliation for their own glorification.

Loki doesn't believe her.

She can see it in his eyes.

Usually so impossible to read, to see anything but a blank nothing in.

She can see so much, so plainly now.

And without thinking, she stands from her chair, stepping forward and reaching out. Her hand finds his, thin fingers curling round the cool, pale skin of his palm as she looks directly up at him.

She feels him stiffen further, and a flash of confusion rushes across his expression, before he schools it into that familiar blankness.

"Loki," she says softly. "I'm _not_ making fun of you. Okay? I swear. You really, _really _look beautiful. You look amazing."

He's looking at her like he doesn't understand the words coming out of her mouth. Like she's speaking some language he doesn't know, and she feels a horrible urgency to make him_ believe_.

"Loki, how can you not see what you look like?" She asks in nearly a whisper. "You're so handsome."

And then he's gently shaking her grip loose from him, and stepping back, shaking his head.

He smiles, but the expression is frail, false.

"Of course." He says, and the usual, impossible confidence of his voice seems utterly vanished. Jane thinks she hears a tremor run beneath, and she reaches a hand up again, watching as Loki takes another step away. "I shall…" he pauses. "I shall gather my selections and we may depart, as you wish."

And then he turns, and disappears back into the dressing room, closing the door behind him.

Jane's arms falls, limp at her side, and she wonders what the hell she did wrong.

/

They make it back to Jane's apartment a short while later, several bags in tow, Loki carrying them all.

Jane's eyes had gradually grown wide in alarm as the cashier had wrung them up, and she'd eventually turned to Loki and told him that there was no way she was paying for any of it, and she hoped he realized that.

Loki had only laughed softly and proceeded to produce a wad of hundred dollar bills from his pocket.

Jane is almost afraid to ask where he got the money from, because she _knows_ he doesn't have a job.

Standing outside her apartment door as she fumbles for her keys, she glances sideways at him, noticing he's rummaging through his acquired lot of new clothes, and faint smile on his face.

"So," she begins. "where, uh… where'd you get all that cash?"

Loki stops, looking up at her a moment with a clear expression of incomprehension.

Jane stares back, blinking.

"You know," she says. "the money you bought your clothes with."

And his eyes light with understanding, smiling wide.

"Ah." he says. And she watches as he waves his hand, another stack of hundreds appearing in his palm, seemingly out of thin air.

Jane gazes a moment, bemused, before her eyes flit up to his face, and she stammers…

"Wais a second. You didn't just… did you _magic_ that money? I mean… what the hell do you call it? _Conjure_?"

His widening grin tells her all she needs to know, and she begins shaking her head.

"Loki, no, you… you can't _do_ that! Are you serious? You can't just _make_ money! Do you know how illegal that is?"

He looks at her as though he doesn't know at all, smile slipping slightly from his face, and Jane growls in frustration, returning to digging through her bag, muttering about how much trouble she's going to get in with him around.

"Indeed," she hears him say. "god of mischief, and all of that."

She looks up at him, mouth agape, the smile firmly back in place upon his lips.

"Oh my God," she breathes, finally finding her keys and pulling them out, focusing on undoing the doors lock.

"Precisely." Loki says, and Jane grits her teeth.

"By the way," he continues as she turns the lock and begins to push the door open. "it would appear we have company."

"What?" Jane asks, stopping partway through opening the door, and Loki nods his head towards it.

"There is someone in your apartment." He explains, and Jane's entire frame goes rigid, stomach dropping in fear.

"What do you mean?" She asks, voice edging on frantic. "You mean, like, somebody from SHIELD, or…"

Loki shakes his head.

"The decidedly non-hostile, though aggravating presence from yesterday." He says. "But I know her not. You perhaps would be better qualified in determining her level of threat."

Jane blinks, trying to remember, and then her eyes go wide.

"Darcy!?" She asks, and Loki only looks at her in confusion.

And at that moment, she hears her friend's voice, drifting towards them from the other side.

"Jane!?" She calls.

"Oh, Jesus." Jane breathes, hand tightening on the doors knob. "What are we going to _do_?"

"Jane?" Darcy's voice is suddenly closer, and at once, the door is being tugged from the other side, and Jane feels an irrational need to pull it back shut.

But she lets it go, bracing for the reaction. Loki stands beside her, seemingly utterly unconcerned.

And then Darcy is standing there, her eyes on Jane only an instant before she's staring up at the god, eyes round and wide in shock, mouth hung open.

Loki smiles at her, and she starts, gaze shifting back to Jane.

"Uh, okay…" she says. "what the effing hell?"

/

Loki sits on the couch, staring back as Jane's odd little friend sits crouched in front of him, staring in return. His hands are placed, relaxed along his thighs, expression a mask of nothing as Darcy's eyes narrow in scrutiny, as though that will somehow allow her to see past it and through him.

Jane is somewhere in the background, pacing restlessly with her cell cradled against her ear, gesticulating wildly as she talks to someone on the other end, voice edged in agitation.

They'd all stared at each other for long seconds out in the hallway, before Jane had abruptly grabbed him by the hand and unceremoniously dragged him into the apartment, pushing Darcy in with them and slamming the door closed.

Loki wonders idly if this will be a common sort of occurrence. Jane dragging him around like some stuffed child's toy. For some reason he can't fathom, it doesn't bother him.

Loki is motionless, and he can see Darcy beginning to fidget.

He's never lost a staring contest, and there have been many he's stared off against.

Finally, she blinks, and stands.

"Sooooo…" she begins. "You're, like, Thor's brother, aren't you?"

Loki's lips pull into a thin line, and Jane chooses that moment to hang up.

"Darcy!" She chides.

"I am Loki of Asgard." Loki replies, voice tight and controlled and thick with warning. "Prince and once King of the Realm Eternal. I am a god and a sorcerer of great power. A scholar and a trickster and a liar. I am many things. I once was related to Thor the Thunderer if not by blood, then in bond, but no longer either. I do not associate with him any longer."

Darcy blinks again, staring back at him for long moments, before finally, she lets out a long whistle, as though impressed.

"Wow, so… sibling rivalry, huh?"

Loki frowns, and Jane grabs Darcy's hand, tugging her back a step, hissing her name sharply.

"What!?" Darcy says, confused.

"Your friend is without proper etiquette." Loki says, eyes moving to Jane.

"I know, I'm _sorry_." Jane replies, clearly embarrassed. "Darcy, you're being _rude_."

"What, just cause I ask the guy a few questions?" Darcy protests, pulling her hand free from Jane's grip. "The same guy who almost _blew up_ New York!"

"Oh my _God_, Darcy!"

And like that, the direction of conversation switches.

Loki's brow furrows, head cocking curiously to the side.

"Why do you swear to a singular god?" He asks, seemingly totally unfazed by Darcy's accusation.

"What?" Jane asks, Darcy turning to look at Loki with her.

"You use the phrase often, 'oh my god'. But you know very well there is more than one of us. There are many. Why do you not then use the plural, 'oh my gods'?"

"Is this guy for real?" Darcy asks.

It takes a moment for Jane's brain to process everything that was just said.

"Uh," she starts, head shaking. "just… it… it's an expression. Most, um… most of the Western world believes in a single Christian God, and it's… it's become a common expression to… to swear to him when you're surprised or angry or… anything."

She trails off, unable to believe she's telling all of this to _Loki_.

"_Christian_ god?" The trickster questions, brow furrowing.

"Yeah, you know, Jesus Christ." Darcy interrupts. "The _actual _God. I mean, if you believe and all."

"Pardon?" Loki asks. "Actual god?"

"Well, everyone knows you aren't really gods." Darcy says. "Right? You're just, like, super advanced alien beings or something."

Jane's eyes close and she cradles her head in her hands, feeling a headache coming on.

"We are gods." Loki says, firmly but oddly without defensiveness. "I assure you."

Darcy crosses her arms.

"But you're not all powerful." She argues.

Loki regards her silently a moment, smiling softly.

"You assume humanity's modern conception of what a god _is_ to be absolute. You are wrong. There are many gods, of many things. Each of us holds dominion over a particular arena."

Darcy frowns, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh yeah?" She argues. "Then why is it if I pray to you, you don't answer? Shouldn't a god be able to hear a human's prayer?"

"You do not pray to any among us." Loki answers with a shrug. "If you did, and one who received such a prayer was feeling particularly generous, you would receive an answer. Though I must admit, none among the Aesir have opened themselves to hear prayers in many centuries. I suppose I was the last holdout. But then, I was always the only one who held any sort of strong interest in the affairs of mortals. When your people ceased to worship us and allowed us to fall into your myths and legends, those prayers became fewer and fewer, until even I saw little point in continuing. It has been perhaps three centuries since last I answered a human's beseeching cry."

Silence falls over the room then, Darcy and Jane staring bemused at Loki, Loki staring back at Darcy, expression implacable.

And then Darcy's eyes go wide, as though some sudden revelation has just befallen her, and she says…

"Get out of here! For real!? You can answer prayers? So, like, if I asked you for a boatload of money or something, you could give it to me?"

Jane feels her insides twist uncomfortably as what can only be described as a menacing grin spreads across the mischief god's face, and he answers…

"I have been known to grant the wishes of many a mortal, in bargains of fair exchange."

He holds out a hand to her, as though beckoning her forward.

"Would you care for a trade, Ms. Lewis?"

"Oooookaaaaay…" Jane intercedes, stepping between the two of them. "I think that's enough of that."

"What?" Darcy asks. "What! He wants to give me a whole bunch of money and solve my college tuition problems, I don't have a problem with that!"

Jane gives Darcy a death glare, and that shuts the political science major right up.

And then she sighs, and says in exasperation…

"Look, nobody's even supposed to know he's _here_."

"Well I'm nobody." Darcy answers, and Loki actually laughs.

Jane turns to look at him disapprovingly, and the god raises his hands in a gesture of innocence.

"'Twas well played Jane, even you must admit." He smiles at her.

And Jane can only growl in frustration, rolling her eyes to the heavens.

/

She tried to get Darcy to leave.

She really did.

But Darcy, bless her sentimental, sisterly, and completely idiot heart, insisted on staying. She told Jane it was because she was worried about her, and didn't trust her safety to a "crazy space Viking", as she so eloquently put it.

But in the several hours since she and Loki arrived back to her flat, and they'd all gotten over the initial issues of Darcy finding them out, the younger girl has done little but spend time with Loki. And Loki, to Jane's never ending confusion, seems almost to _enjoy _Darcy's company.

He certainly hasn't made any complaints yet.

Jane would have thought Darcy's often grating, intrusive, and loud behavior would be a huge turn off to the quiet, reserved and soft spoken god.

Currently, however, Jane is watching them from her kitchen table, the two of them sat on the floor in the center of her living room, across from one another, as Darcy shows and explains to Loki the wonder of her IPod, and its many amazing uses. The top of her head barely comes up to his shoulder, and they make the most odd pairing the physicist is sure she's ever seen.

Loki, beyond all reason, seems utterly fascinated.

"I just downloaded, like, a thousand songs onto it from my computer." Darcy's voice carries across the space loudly. "_So_ much work, but _so_ worth it." She goes on.

She's holding the device in the palm of her hand, scrolling through the list of artists, angling so that Loki can see what she's doing.

"See, its touch screen." She says, picking some random selection.

Loki's eyes light up as the tinny music begins to filter weakly out of the IPod's pathetic little speakers.

And then he's snatching the thing out of Darcy's hand and bringing it closer to his face, examining it as he turns it this way and that.

"Hey!" Darcy protests, trying to swipe it back, but Loki moves away.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" He asks. "I have never seen its like before." His eyes narrow suspiciously.

Darcy blinks.

"Huh… Duran Duran." She says.

Loki just looks at her a moment, clearly lost, before returning his attention to the device.

He begins playing with the screen.

"You better not break it bozo, or I'll make you buy me a new one, _and _replace all the songs."

If Loki hears her, he gives no indication.

Somehow, he manages to select a different track, and Jane thinks she can hear Madonna's "Like a Virgin" playing from it.

"Here…" Darcy says, pulling out her ear buds from her pants pocket. She reaches over, slipping the jack into place while Loki still holds the mp3 player, and then proceeds to lift one of the buds up to his ear, shoving it in without permission.

Jane would laugh at what happens next, if Loki didn't look so monumentally freaked out.

His eyes go wide in a startled expression, and he actually staggers back, falling onto his haunches before reaching up and ripping the bud almost violently from his ear.

Darcy is staring at him with her own look of astonishment, before suddenly, she bursts into laughter.

Loki looks anything but amused.

"Dude, you're worse than Thor!" She says, slapping her knee. "I didn't think it was possible! But you're, like, _totally_ technology stupid, aren't you?"

"You call _me_ dimwitted?" He returns, voice edged in warning. "Me? Loki, god of mischief and lies? I who is considered cleverest of the gods? I who is magic and fire and wit?"

Jane groans, letting her head fall to her hands on the table. She should be more concerned, she knows. But… _really_? This is her life?

Darcy is still giggling, shaking her head.

"Dude, no. It's just… it's hilarious to see you guys with our technology. You really don't have anything like this back on Asgard?"

Loki regards her for a moment silently, as though trying to determine the sincerity of her claim. And then, finally, slowly, he shakes his head.

"Dude, that's just sad." She answers. "You don't have music even?"

Loki blinks.

"We have music." He replies plainly.

"Well, what kind?" She presses.

Loki takes a moment to think.

"It is, perhaps, akin to what you mortals might call 'orchestral'. There are many fine musicians amongst the gods."

He pauses a moment, and Jane lifts her head, and she swears, for an instant, there is a brief hesitation in Loki's expression before he says, voice quiet and nearly shy.

"I play some myself." He says. "I have even…" that hesitation again, and Jane is convinced now Loki is actually _embarrassed_ by what he's saying. "I have even featured in quartets to entertain the court, or celebratory feasts. Though… thought such is forbidden practice to one of my rank."

"What, you mean, like, you weren't _allowed_?" Darcy asks, astonished.

Loki shakes his head.

"I was forced to disguise myself if I wished to partake, I'm afraid."

Silence settles over the group for a long instant, Darcy and Jane both staring at the mischief god uncertainly.

And a familiar pang suddenly clutches inside Jane's chest, remembering back to the banquet, after the dark Elves had been defeated… the glaring omissions among the gathered warriors… how no one had made mention… no one had spoken of their disgraced Prince…

Even though it had been him… it had been _him _who'd saved them all…

Suddenly Loki is standing, smiling vaguely.

"The words this woman sings are uncouth." He says.

Darcy grins lopsided.

"Well, yeah." She says. "It's _Madonna_! That's not even her worst song!"

Loki nods, as if he has any idea of what Darcy is talking about, and then he says, utterly serious…

"I rather enjoy this music."

And without another word, he turns, walking off and disappearing into Jane's bedroom, Darcy's Ipod and ear buds still in his possession.

"Hey!" Darcy yells after him. "Hey, that's mine!"

But Loki pays her no mind at all.

/

**AN: As always, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed. I appreciate you beyond words. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you get a chance, let me know your thoughts.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay folks, next chapter!**

**Just want to address something here real quick. I noticed I might have upset some of you with my last chapter and talk of gods, and what makes a god, etc… Well, just to put this out there, I write Loki and Thor and all of these guys as actual gods. That's what they are in the comics, and that's what they're based off of in Norse mythology. They were worshipped and believed in by certain groups of people every bit as much as Christ, or any other religions god, and by some, even still are. To me, Norse gods are every bit as real and legitimate as any Christian god, or Hindu god, or Greek god, what have you. So what I would say is, if it really upsets you that much to see it suggested that any god but a Christian God is real, or exists as a god, then you probably shouldn't be reading anything which has Pagan gods as characters in it. Just my two cents. And please don't write back hate messages over this, or try to convert me or something weird like that. If you do, I'll just delete them and not read them, I really will.**

**Now, on to the chapter, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 13:**

It's later that same day, or rather, early evening, when Darcy, still stubbornly sticking around, suggests over Jane's marginal attempts at dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, that, since Loki apparently likes modern music so much, they should all go to a club.

Of course, Jane is immediately opposed to the idea, well aware it can only end in disaster.

"No." She says. "No, no, no. That's the worst idea ever in the history of worst ideas. Absolutely not."

Loki, to her growing horror, looks intrigued, and confused.

His brows furrow together as he holds one of her cheap forks delicately between his fingers, far too properly to look anything but absurd. A frown pulls at his lips.

"What is a 'club'?" He asks. "Is it not a blunt shaped weapon here on Midgard?"

Darcy blinks at him, and then bursts out laughing.

"Dude," she says between fits of giggles. "you're so clueless!"

Jane doesn't miss the hardened edge which suddenly frosts Loki's too green eyes over, and she feels a momentary spike of worry.

"Darcy, shut up." She says, swatting her friend on the shoulder.

"What!?" Darcy snaps, rubbing her arm like it actually hurt.

Jane only sighs, rolling her eyes skyward before apologizing to Loki.

Loki inclines his head to her as though in appreciation.

"It is well." He assures, before returning his attention to the intern. "Pray tell." He goes on. "Explain to me then."

And Darcy is grinning again.

"It's a place you go to dance and have fun and meet people!" She says enthusiastically.

"… _Meet _people?" Loki questions after a moment, brow arching in an apparent display of being unimpressed.

Darcy only grins obliviously.

"Yeah!" She replies. "You know, like girlfriends and boyfriends. Or boyfriends and boyfriends. Whatever you like big man."

Loki is staring at her in utter bewilderment, and Jane feels a headache beginning to form.

"So what do you say?" Darcy asks after a moment, impatient.

Loki seems to consider.

"There is dancing, you say?" He asks finally, and Darcy nods excitedly.

At this, an almost shy smile seems to form along the god's lips, and he nods vaguely.

"Very well then. I shall accompany you and Jane to this… club."

Jane's sure it isn't long until her headache turns to a full blown migraine.

/

Despite her continued protests and warnings of danger, Jane, Darcy and Loki end up outside some new popular hotspot in the heart of downtown Manhattan, waiting in line.

Even out here, with all the crazies places like this seems to attract, Loki sticks out like a sore thumb.

He's taller than everyone in the line by a good 2 or 3 inches, and dressed _way _too well.

Jane thought she was going to die on the spot when he started questioning loudly why they should have to wait in line, and people started glaring back at them, Loki acting as though he didn't see them at all.

Darcy had hastily explained the process of getting in to such a popular establishment, and thank God, or… the gods, whatever, Loki had seemed to accept it.

By the time they get in, they've been waiting near an hour, and Darcy tells them she has to run and use the bathroom, but she'll be right back.

Jane just wants to leave, but she knows it'll only result in the political science major moaning and complaining about how she never wants to have any fun, and Loki had been so genuinely interested…

She sighs, glancing behind her and seeing the mischief god, standing stock still and eyes wide as he glances around the large space. There are people everywhere, surrounding them, and the music is pulsing and loud, lights flashing bright and unrelenting, making it hard to think, let alone be heard above it all.

"I'm going to get us some drinks!" Jane shouts to him, and Loki seems to flinch, his eyes finally dragging back to her.

Jane has an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Okay?" She asks, and Loki just blinks.

"Stay here!" She instructs. "Don't move, and I'll be right back! We'll find a table to sit at!"

Still, Loki doesn't respond, and Jane frowns slightly, the unease in her increasing. Loki looks almost… she doesn't want to say _scared_, because Jesus, she can't even imagine the god being afraid of anything, and she'd seen him in the heat of actual _battle_, unflinching and unrestrained… but the look on his face seems almost… haunted. Too much like the look she'd seen when he'd woken from nightmares.

She glances back, the bar only a few feet from where they're standing, and suddenly she thinks better of leaving Loki alone in here. He seems upset, and she wonders how she could have missed it.

She decides screw it, she doesn't care if Darcy thinks she's a stick in the mud. When the intern comes back, they're leaving, and that's that.

She turns back to inform Loki of her decision, and her heart feels like it drops, like leaden weight, down into her stomach, when she sees him no longer standing there.

Almost frantically, her eyes scan the mass of bodies before and around her.

It shouldn't be hard to find him, for Christ's sake! He's like 6'3" and he doesn't look normal! He doesn't look human! Not really, not when you _really_ look. She should be able to see him!

But she can't, and as the seconds pass, her panic begins to grow, dread and worse case scenarios playing through her mind like a never ending reel.

She knew this was a bad idea. She _knew_ it! Oh, God, why had she let Darcy talk them into this…

/

There is pain…

Throbbing in his head, through his skull. Searing, white hot agony behind his eyes, blinding and deep and never ending.

The rush of a million trillion stars, floating past and never ceasing, bright and hot and too, too cold.

The rush of nothing, nothing, nothing in his ears.

There is a scream trapped inside his throat, and he tries so hard to push it out, mouth falling open and a gust of breath. Please, please, please, he has to be real. He _has_ to be.

It cannot all have been imagined. All those memories, all those thousands of years, they cannot be naught but falsity and lies.

Lies, lies, lies…

He is the god of lies.

He is.

The god of lies. The god of pretending. The god of fake, fake, _fake_…

He falls forever, and there is nothing.

Weightless, empty, soundless, gone.

He tries to scream, and nothing comes, and his eyes are blinded by too many stars, too close, and it never stops, it never ends.

And then crushing sound. Metal against metal, against flesh and bone. Grinding and cracking and filling his head. Snarls and clicking and grunting like laughter, and weak, pathetic, mewling whimpers, half formed pleas to stop, stop, please, please stop.

He is weak and helpless and so, so alone. So viciously, utterly alone. And he wants to cry, but no tears come.

He wants his mother, but she is gone.

He is jarred suddenly, something soft but weighted crashing against him, and Loki's eyes snap open, and suddenly, he's surrounded by noise and lights and bodies.

He grips his hair in his hands, long, white fingers trembling in dark locks, and there is a man, staring up at him, face twisted in familiar hate.

"Watch where you're going, fag!" He screams, ugly and twisting and hate, hate, hate…

Loki blinks, confused.

Where is he? Where?

He was falling… he was…

"Hey! You listenin' to me, freak!" The man is talking again, and suddenly he's reaching out, hands against Loki's chest, and Loki can feel him try to shove.

It does nothing, and the man stares, confused.

Memory stirs and snaps inside the god, building to anger.

He remembers, and he reaches back, grabbing hold the man by his collar.

"Touch me _not_, pathetic mortal!" He growls, and now he pushes, and the man goes sprawling back several feet, falling to his bottom in an undignified heap.

The man stares up, fear flashing clear across his features a moment.

And then there are voices around Loki, hostile and angry.

"What the fuck, asshole!" Someone to his left says, and suddenly, there are more hands on him, grabbing his arms and squeezing. Restricting. Holding down.

"Get outta this, pretty boy." Someone says to his right.

And suddenly he can't breathe through his panic…

_Loki runs through the palace halls, breath coming hard and laughing wildly, glancing back over his shoulder for his elder brother, close, he knows, on his tail._

_He sees no sign of the thunder god, and turns back, barreling ahead, turning a corner, feet nearly slipping on the smooth marble of the floor and throwing him._

_He manages to keep his balance, just barely, only to slam face first into the unyielding form of Thor, and the impact is enough to toss him back and land him hard on his bottom, an undignified "oomf" slipping past his lips._

_It takes him a moment to reorient, realization dawning of what just happened, and as he glances up, seeing Thor standing there, glaring down at him with as angry an expression as he's ever seen the elder god cast upon him, clad in the ruffled, pink gown of a fair maiden, Loki cannot help the wide grin which spreads across his features, nor the laughter which bursts forth from his lips, even as he wonders idly how Thor ever managed to get ahead of him without him noticing._

_Thor's expression only hardens as Loki curls in on himself in mirth, clearly, himself, anything but amused._

"_You sh… you should s-see…" Loki laughs, barely able to catch his breath, words hardly forming full on his tongue. "You should s-see your f-face, brother!" He at last manages, and Thor scowls, eyes flashing dangerously. _

_Loki is too caught up in his own hysterics to notice the threatening look._

_He can only find merriment in the situation, and thinks, eventually, Thor should too._

_After all, it can only serve the Thunderer well, to experience a bit of humility._

_That had been the trickster god's intention, in any event, when in the midst of a sparring session with Fandral, Loki, sitting on the sidelines, watching, had waved his hand and vanishes his big brother's regal armor, replacing it with the gown he now sports. _

_Thor hadn't even noticed, at first, despite Fandral's startled expression and frozen retreat. Not until he had tripped over the dresses flowing skirts and fallen, face first, into the hard packed dirt of the training ring, and the surrounding group of warriors had erupted into laughter, Sif, perhaps, hollering loudest of all. _

_And Loki had only smiled, watching, smile turning to a grin as Thor picked himself up out of the dirt and glanced around, a look of pure confusion across his broad, handsome features, looking down at himself finally, seeing the gown._

_Loki cannot recall ever having seen Thor blush quite so deep a shade of pink as he had in that moment, the memory causing his smile now to grow._

_The thunder god's confusion hadn't lasted long, however, before his head had again snapped up and his eyes had found Loki, features twisting from bewildered to sudden and vicious rage, and Loki had taken that as his cue to run._

"_You think this amusing?!" Thor's loud voice cuts through his mirth abruptly, pulling him back to the present._

_Loki scarcely has time to register the movement before Thor is upon him, taking hold the collar of his tunic and hauling him up to his feet, Loki still weak with laughter, nearly limp in the larger god's hold._

"'_Tw-twas… 'twas only in jest, Thor." He sputters, still trying to gain control of himself. "Only a bit of f-fun."_

"_You will undo this Loki, or so help me…!" Thor bellows, tone deadly serious._

_Loki continues to chuckle helplessly._

"_O-ohho, very well." He says, waving a hand lazily, and in an instant, the dress vanishes, replaced with Thor's earlier armor. "There, satisfied?" Loki asks, brows raised._

_He expects for the anger to melt from Thor's face. To be replaced by exasperated fondness, or bashful amusement. _

_But it does not._

_The anger stays in place, the lines of his features growing perhaps even harder._

_And then, without warning, he whirls Loki around and slams him, _hard_, against the wall, knocking the breath clean from his lungs, a startled gasp tearing from the mischief god's throat at the sudden and unexpected impact._

_His eyes go slightly wide, and at once, Thor is letting go of his collar and reaching for his wrists, thick hands gripping round the thin joints harshly and jerking his arms up, almost painfully, above his head, pinning them back against the wall and holding him in place._

"_Thor, what are you…" Loki begins to say, his own amusement quickly draining to nothing, replaced with confusion and slight trepidation. _

"SILENCE_!" Thor cuts him off with a shout, and Loki's mouth snaps shut, trepidation growing in an instant to almost fear._

_Thor rarely yells at him, and the younger god can feel the thud of his heart suddenly, against his ribs._

_For a moment, the Crown Prince only glares at him, expression disgusted, and Loki feels his face flush at the clearly scrutinizing and disapproving gaze._

_He wants suddenly to be out from under such a stare._

"_I have had it with your tricks, Loki!" Thor spits, voice biting and harsh. "With your ridiculous mischief and cowardly antics! You think you can make a fool of me and not suffer the consequences?!"_

_Loki blinks, not understanding._

_He doesn't understand why Thor is so angry, why he's so upset when…_

"_Thor, I…" he begins, voice betraying his nervousness, trembling slightly. "I do not understand. I thought only to…"_

"_You thought only to humiliate me!" Thor snaps, grip tightening on his wrists, hard enough to hurt now, and Loki winces at the increased pressure. "And I will not stand for it, little brother! I will not be laughed at, most certainly not as the subject of your own, dishonorable jests!"_

_Loki swallows, growing suddenly very wary._

"_Thor, I… I only thought…" he begins, hating how small and weak his own voice sounds. "it is only, you… you and your friends laugh always at my own folly in the training rings. I thought only to show you… to… to let you see what it… how it feels to…"_

"_It is NOT the same!" Again, Thor cuts him off, voice raised. "You say it yourself. It is _your own_ folly we laugh at in the training rings. It is no one's weakness but your own which causes you to falter so! It was no weakness of mine which they laughed at today! Only your own jealousy of me which led you to interfere!"_

"_P-please, Thor, you're hurting me." Loki answers, eyes slipping away, pulling half-heartedly at the hold on his wrists as Thor's fingers dig deeper._

"_No, Loki!" Thor snarls. "You will learn from your own mistakes. You must be taught. You rely too heavily in battle on your tricks and cowardly tactics. It is nothing short of shameful, a Prince of the Realm, being so weak."_

"… _I am not." Loki protests frailly, unable to meet Thor's eyes still._

"_You are, and I will prove it to you." Thor answers. "Here, try breaking from my grasp with naught but your own strength."_

"_Thor, please…" Loki nearly begs, not moving._

"_Do as I say, brother!" Thor spits harshly. "Here, I will make it easier for you, so that you may have no excuse."_

_Abruptly, he switches his grasp, taking hold of both of Loki's wrists in one hand, still pinning his arms above his head._

"_Now break free, Loki. Show me you are not so weak as you are said to be."_

"_Thor, I…"_

"_Will you not even try, Loki?" Thor pushes._

"_Thor, please, I beg you, let me go. Let me…"_

"_I will not. You must break free if you wish to escape my hold."_

"_But Thor…"_

"_TRY!" Thor roars, and his grip tightens painfully now, squeezing with almost crushing pressure, and Loki cry's out, face crumpling._

_He pulls weakly at the hold, not really trying, knowing even if he does, he won't be able to get free._

"_Harder!" Thor says._

_And Loki does, pulling with more force, putting actual effort into it._

_And still, he gets nowhere, unable to loosen Thor's vicious fingers even slightly._

"_Thor, I cannot…" Loki says weakly, voice wavering._

_He feels a sharp sting at the backs of his eyes, his throat tightening, and he tries desperately to keep himself under control._

"_Try _harder_ Loki!" Thor keeps pushing._

_And one last time, Loki tries, pulling and tugging and struggling with everything he has to break Thor's hold on him._

_All he succeeds in doing is working himself to exhaustion, breath coming harsh and shallow, sweat forming along his brow, having moved the thunder god not even an inch._

_Thor frowns at him with unhidden disappointment._

"_Is that the best you can do?" He asks cruelly. "Try _harder _Loki! Break yourself free!"_

"_I CAN'T!" Loki finally shouts back, voice pitching high and broken. He keeps his face turned away, humiliation burning his cheeks, the sting in his eyes growing worse. "You… you are t-too… too strong. Too strong. I can't…"_

"_You hardly tried…" Thor sneers, and without thinking, Loki begins speaking the runes to teleport, just wanting to be away from here. Just wanting…_

"_Oh, no," Thor says, and at once, he has his free hand pressed over Loki's mouth, palm pressing down, stifling the younger Prince's words. "none of your tricks."_

_And Loki can't help it anymore, can't stop it._

_The tears press past his eyes, coursing hot and unrelenting down his cheeks, lids closing against the humiliation of it._

"_Of course," Thor says, unsympathetic. "now you cry like a maiden. How pathetic are yo…" _

"Thor_!"_

_The Crown Prince's words die on his tongue, and his head snaps around, seeing her standing there, not five feet from them._

_Their Mother. _

_A fury in her eyes unlike any he can recall ever seeing._

"_Let your brother _go_." She says._

_Her voice never rises, but there is no room for argument in her tone, and without thought, Thor pulls his hand back from Loki's mouth, and then releases his grip along the younger boy's slim wrists, stepping back from him._

_Like all the strength has been sapped at once from the smaller god, Loki slips to the floor, boneless, tears still pouring down across his cheeks. _

_He huddles against the wall, turning his face down and away, hands coming up to cover his shame. He trembles vaguely._

_Thor's eyes are on Frigga as she steps forward, straight past him and bends, arms coming around Loki, scooping his small frame towards her and pressing him against her chest._

_For a moment, Loki only slumps, limp and unmoving as she presses her lips to his crown and kisses him gently, hand rubbing up and down his back, trying to sooth._

_And then the mischief god's arms are reaching out, fingers burying in the material of his Mother's dress, clinging desperately. A harsh sob rips past his lips, muffled against her, and Frigga kisses him again, shushing him quietly._

_For long minutes, she just holds him, kissing him and whispering to him, words of encouragement and assurance, and Loki continues to cry against her._

_Thor watches, at first, bewildered, and then, slowly, as he sees the terrified and distraught state of his younger brother, guilt begins to work its way into his chest, gripping and constricting his heart, realization over what he's just done tightening his throat, all over wounded pride._

_His rage blinding him to his own actions…_

_After a time, Frigga, still holding her youngest child, turns to look at Thor, eyes narrowing in clear anger, and Thor feels his own apprehension and fear take hold._

"_You grow cruel, boy." She says to him, voice as level and calm as ever, somehow all the more terrifying for it. "How could you do this to your own brother?"_

_For several seconds, Thor's mouth is dry, words impossible on his tongue, before he starts to stumble and stammer over an excuse._

"_He… he turned my armor to… to a… a dress, in… in front of all my friends, and…"_

"_You are supposed to _protect _him Thor!" She cuts him off, scolding. "And instead you scare him half to death and do your level best to humiliate him?!"_

"_I… I didn't mean… I only wanted to teach him…"_

"_And what did you think your brother would learn Thor?" Once again, she cuts him short, still holding Loki against her. "What lesson would he gain? He is _small _Thor. Barely more than half your size! Surely you knew he could not break your hold on him. He does not have your physical strength. And yet you persisted in torturing him and reminding him of this fact over and over. As some common bully would. As though Loki does not have a difficult enough time dealing with the taunts of others."_

_Finally, Frigga stands, lifting Loki up with her, holding him against her chest, his face pressed and buried against her shoulder, her free hand cradling the back of his head._

"_There is no excuse for what you have done this day Thor." She says sternly. "No excuse at all. Your behavior was deplorable and _cowardly_."_

_Thor's eyes go wide, mouth falling open in shock._

"_But…" he begins, protesting._

_The protest dies in his throat at the look she gives him, and finally, in shame, the elder Prince turns his eyes away._

"_I am sorry…" he mutters._

"_What are you apologizing to me for?" She says back. "It is Loki from whom you should beg forgiveness."_

_Thor looks back, frowning, like he wants to argue the point still, and Frigga just keeps her hardened gaze on him, unyielding, until finally, the Crown Prince looks away again, and he mutters grudgingly and lowly, nearly under his breath…_

"_I am sorry, Loki."_

_Loki doesn't respond, still clinging to his Mother, face still hidden._

_Frigga's lips pull into a frown._

"_Perhaps, when you mean it," she begins. "you may repeat the words to your brother."_

_And then she's walking off, carrying her youngest son with her, leaving Thor to contemplate her words._

It's the commotion which draws her attention.

The startled gasps and cries of fear, the parting of what had before been a throng, a press of bodies all huddled together, now backing away, creating a wide, cleared space. And Jane knows… she _knows_, without being able to truly see, what is happening, and without hesitation, she begins pushing her way through people, elbowing and shoving and screaming for them to let her past.

And it is just as she brakes through the last of them, that she sees, and her eyes grow wide, fear spiking through her like a lance at the sight.

Two, burly men have hold of Loki, each of them near his height and built twice as thick, grasping either of his arms, trying to restrain him.

They are speaking harshly to him, derogatory, demeaning name calling and vicious threats. A man, some several feet back is attempting to pick himself back up off the floor, and he is yelling too, egging the others on, telling them to hold Loki still, finally managing to stay upright as he approaches.

"I'm gonna beat the shit outta you, faggot!" He snarls, and Jane thinks she might be sick.

She steps forward, reaching out.

"NO!" She cries, but it is too late, the man rearing a fist back, throwing his entire weight into the punch, cracking his knuckles against Loki's jaw.

And then there is the sickening crack of something breaking, and in a flash, the man is back on the floor, howling in agony as he clutches his hand, limp and smashed looking, screams hitched and wet and sobbing.

Jane pays him only a seconds mind, before her gaze snaps back to the god, and her stomach falls out from under her at the absolute fury she sees in those hardened, unnaturally bright eyes.

Oh Jesus Christ…

Loki's face twists in a mask of pure hatred, and what happens next is near too fast for the eye to follow.

His right arm tears free of the man's grip, coming up like lightening, hand clenched to a fist. And then there is the horrifying crunch, as Loki's knuckles make contact with the man's face, and Jane watches with terrified eyes as the bones beneath seem to crumble, turning to sagging mush, the face distorting grotesquely, blood exploding out his nose and mouth, before the man drops like a sack of stones to the ground, a barely heard moan escaping his lips before he falls completely still and silent.

Oh God… oh God, oh God, oh God…

A delayed gasp works through the gathered crowd, followed by a crushing silence.

The other man still holding to Loki stares in bewildered fear at his fallen companion, before his eyes snap back up to the god, wide and confused, and he has only a moment's comprehension before Loki is overpowering his grip like a full grown man might a child's, reaching up and taking hold the man's face, long, thin fingers crushing over it and _squeezing_.

Loki's teeth bare, lips peeling back as some wild animals.

"I am not _weak_!" He growls.

And then there is the most terrifying, high pitched keen, filling the startled silence of the space.

There is a moment of stunned hush, people staring gape-mouthed and horrified.

And then it explodes.

People start screaming and running in unadulterated horror, slamming into one another in a mad rush to escape the place.

Loki doesn't even seem to notice, the man in his grip sagging limply now, his cry of pain dissipating into weakened whimpers, dragging into nothing.

He's going to kill him. Oh Christ, Loki is going to _kill_ him.

And then what will happen?

What will happen to _him_?

Jane lurches forward.

"LOKI!" She cries out. "Loki, STOP!"

And she doesn't even think, doesn't hesitate, stumbling towards him and grasping his arm, her small hands wrapping round his deceptively thin bicep, digging in. "Loki!"

His head snaps towards her, face twisted in fury as he stares down at her, eyes blank of any recognition, and for an instant, she fears for her own life, mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

But then she sees the change, sees him see her, and she nearly sags in relief, still holding to his arm.

"Loki, please," she begs. "stop. _Please_. You're gonna get in trouble. You're gonna get in _so_ much trouble."

He stares at her, his face bleeding from hardened and fierce to suddenly so lost, and her heart feels like it's breaking. Oh gods, there's so much pain…

And she doesn't know why, she doesn't understand the tears which are suddenly filling her eyes, stinging as they escape unbidden down her cheeks, her voice wavering.

"I know they hurt you Loki." She says. "I _know _they did. But please, you're not weak. You're _not_. And you don't have to prove yourself to them. You don't have to prove yourself to anyone. Please, let's just go, huh? Let's just go home."

He blinks, still staring down at her like he doesn't understand, like he doesn't know, doesn't hear.

"Please Loki." She begs again.

"Jane!" There's suddenly a hand on her shoulder, Darcy's voice at her ear. "What the _hell _is going on!? Jesus Christ!"

Jane reaches back, finding her friend's hand, grasping it, still holding to the god.

"Loki, _please_! Take us out of here. Take us out right now!"

And he does.

He does.

One moment, they're in the club, surrounded by a riot of panic and fear and noise, and the next, they're in her apartment, her living room, surrounded by nothing but silence and the heavy breath of her and Darcy.

And then Darcy is kneeling over, vomiting onto her white rug.

And Jane is on her knees, staring up at a god, wondering how the hell she ever convinced him to listen to her.

**AN: Poor Loki, I guess going to the club isn't such a hot idea when you're suffering from PTSD. Hope you liked the chapter, and let me know you're thoughts!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

This is bad, Jane thinks.

This is really, really, like, _worst case scenario_ bad.

Loki is standing there still, staring down at her with such a blank confusion in his eyes, like he doesn't even realize, doesn't remember what's happened.

Jane isn't sure even she really does.

And then, suddenly, Loki is backing away, stepping away from her, sluggish and slow, as though he's been dazed, back slamming into the wall.

His knees seem to give out, and she watches him sink to the floor, usually straight postured form slumping, limp and boneless and broken.

He stares at nothing then, eyes fixed, distant and unfocused on some indistinct spot.

And Jane knows something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Darcy is still vomiting, and Jane feels her own nausea, fighting to wash over her.

Somehow, she pushes it down, forcing herself unsteady to her feet. She steps forward, stumbling, catching herself and straightening. Moving again, until she's standing before the god.

He doesn't even seem to notice her there, doesn't react.

She sinks down with him, until she's level with his face.

"Loki…" she says, voice no more than a whisper. "Loki, look at me."

She dares to reach out, hardly considering it even, grasping his long, thin hands between her own.

They're freezing cold, and she nearly starts.

"Loki."

Finally, his eyes lift to her, inhumanly green with the glow of the cosmos, she thinks, with the glow of millennia, and she feels her breath catch in her throat, at the sheen of tears there. Wet and bright and crushed with wrecking, ruining pain.

So much agony in the lines of his young face.

"Loki…" she whispers again.

"She was my champion." He says, and she freezes.

His eyes slide away from her, down. And she sees the tears slip free, down his porcelain cheeks.

"The only one…" he goes on, voice so soft. "she was the only one. The only…"

And Jane sees his face crumple, brow lining in plain anguish.

She has never seen him more true.

"I cannot live with her gone… with her gone from this plane." His voice wavers and breaks, and she feels his hands tighten round her own. "I wish not to…"

His mother, Jane realizes.

He's talking about Frigga.

"How long our lives are…" his voice is low and strained. "how long we must suffer…"

And Jane thinks of her own mother. Her own father.

She thinks of the loss of them, the years since a seeming eternity. The daunting realization of how many years she has yet to live without them by her side. The weight of that all.

And then she thinks of Loki.

He is immortal. Or, at least, will live so long, there is practically no difference.

She feels her own loss as a seeming eternity.

His own truly is.

And oh, but she has friends. She has people close to her enough to feel as family would. Darcy, crazed as the girl is, Jane thinks of her as a younger sister. And Eric… Eric is as a father.

She has Thor even, though whether as a partner or not, she cannot say. In the least, as a friend.

Loki has no one.

His mother, and now she's gone.

Thor has his father, and his many companions whose loyalty to him knows no end.

Loki has no one.

And Jane understands her own suffering will someday end. There is a tangible point to which she can look and acknowledge that her life will be over, and so too will the pain of loss.

Loki has no such point. No such escape.

His life will not end.

To try and conceive such alone is enough to make her chest burn with some unbearable ache, and she doesn't even think of it then, doesn't hesitate a moment.

She pulls her hands free of the god's loose grip and reaches forward, wrapping her arms round him and pressing him to her in an embrace.

She feels Loki stiffen almost immediately, but she doesn't let go, only tightens her hold harder, her hand finding and cupping the crown of Loki's head.

She holds him firm, holds him secure. She doesn't let go.

Until she feels the tight rigidity of his form relax, the hard lines of his body slumping against her as he lets her guide his head to her shoulder, and she knows then she hasn't made a mistake.

She wonders how long it's been since anyone's just _held_ Loki.

He doesn't hold her back. Just sags against her, limp and yielding. There is a thrum of uncertainty, it seems, running through him. Like he doesn't quite know, doesn't quite understand what this is. Doesn't himself know how to react. Simply relinquishing himself to it, and Jane thinks nothing of taking the task upon herself of guiding him.

She feels him shift then, his face pressing harder against her shoulder, and the vague shutter which works through his frame, and she knows he's crying.

The surreal nature of the situation doesn't fail to register in her mind. She is holding Loki, Thor's little brother, a being that is, for all intents and purposes, a _god_, a being that is half as old as the whole of human civilization, comforting him as he grieves for his lost mother.

Sometimes, Jane wonders how her life ended up like this.

It isn't something she could have imagined even in the wildest dreams of her youth.

Not this.

She feels him breathe out, the shutter through his deceptively thin frame growing more pronounced.

"Shhh, shh, shh…" she shushes him, running her hand instinctively along his back, rubbing soothing circles against his spine. She can feel it through his thin skin, and it bothers her. "It's alright." She promises. "It's alright."

But this isn't alright, and she knows it. None of this is alright. None of it.

But she doesn't know what else to say to this man; doesn't know what to do to make it better. Not without sounding completely full of shit. She supposes there is no making it better. Not for him.

Thor had told her, once, before, as she and him had stood at the Bifrost's edge, that Loki had let himself fall. She hadn't understood what he meant, and then Thor had explained. That Loki had let go, had let himself fall into the void of space which yawned in endless black beneath the shining city of Asgard.

He had tried to kill himself.

It should have killed him, Thor had said. God or no, the fall through nothingness should have killed him. Somehow, it had not.

But Loki had suspected it to, Thor said. He had seen it in his little brother's eyes. The despair of hopelessness. And he had let go, wanting to die.

Christ, Jane thinks, she has a suicidal god in her arms, and she doesn't know what the hell she's doing.

She doesn't want to have the death of an ancient being happen under _her _watch.

And then she remembers. SHIELD is no doubt looking for him after his escape. No doubt, what happened at the club has already gotten to them. That means they'll have seen her and Darcy with him, already know they're together.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit…

"Loki…" she starts, quietly. He doesn't respond, but she goes on anyway. "Loki, listen to me. We've… we've got to get out of here. We've… they'll be coming for you now. They'll know you're here…"

"Jane…" she starts slightly as she feels the hand on her shoulder, realizing a moment later that it's Darcy. "What's going on?" She asks. "What was that back there, at the club?" And Jane shakes her head, glancing back at the younger woman.

"I don't know Darcy." She says helplessly. "I don't know. But we've got to get out of here before SHIELD comes knocking. We aren't safe here right now."

Darcy nods absently, eyes shifting to Loki, still slumped in her arms.

"Is… is he okay?" She asks, and Jane again shakes her head.

And then she shifts, unwrapping from him and taking the god underneath his arms, trying to stand and pull him up with her.

He's bizarrely heavy, despite his rail thin frame, and Jane grunts, exhaling loudly.

"Loki, buddy, you've got to help me here. We've got to go."

That seems to reach him, and she feels the pressure of trying to hold him up relieved from her as he rises under his own power. She straightens with him, trying to catch his eyes. But he won't look at her now, or Darcy, his face down turned and arms held tight, defensively across his chest.

It occurs to Jane briefly that he's embarrassed, but she has only a moment to contemplate the strangeness of that before Darcy breaks her thoughts.

"Where are we gonna go?" She asks. "SHIELD's got their creepy men in black crawling all over the place."

"I don't know." Jane admits. "Maybe Eric's."

"Uhhh…" Darcy replies. "With him?" She gestures towards Loki, her expression incredulous.

"Yes, with him." Jane answers.

"Won't he, like, I don't know, shit a brick? I mean, Loki _did_ take over his mind. Right?"

Jane grits her teeth, her frame tensing.

"It'll just be until we can figure something else out." She tries, the excuse sounding hollow to her own ears.

She glances at Loki, who's still stood there, looking away. She can see his own tension, coiled tight within his frame, and the overhead lights catch on his pale skinned cheeks, reflecting the wetness of tears.

She's never seen him look so unsure, and that in itself is utterly terrifying.

"Loki," she starts, reaching out carefully and resting her hand against his arm. "Do you think you can maybe take us there?"

"Oh God," Darcy protests. "not that weird teleporting shit again. I'd prefer to keep what's left of my dinner in my stomach, thank you very much."

Jane ignores her, eyes locked on the mischief god.

Loki shakes his head, still refusing to meet her eyes.

"I cannot." He says, and his voice is dry and rough.

"What?" Jane asks, confused. "Why not? You just…"

"I do not know the way. I need know a place before I can walk there."

His hand reaches up, and he turns further from her as he wipes at his face.

"Walk?" Darcy asks. "What's he mean, 'walk'?"

"It's just…" Jane answers distractedly. "it's what they call someone who can travel by way of Yiggdrasill's branches. They're called sky-walkers."

That was what Thor had told her anyway. She feels like some kind of idiot saying it though.

"Riiiight…" Darcy replies, and that doesn't help anything.

Jane sighs in exasperation, rolling her eyes.

"Well then I guess we're driving. Come on."

"But, Eric's all the way in Brooklyn!" Darcy continues to complain. "It'll take us _forever_ to get there in traffic!"

"We don't have a choice!" Jane snaps, finally turning towards her friend. "Just…"

Her shoulders sag.

"Just, gather together some stuff, will you? Some supplies for the next few days?"

Darcy frowns, and to Jane's relief, she simply nods, finally turning and making her way down the hall leading towards the guest bedroom.

It doesn't take long for her to reemerge with a backpack in hand, and to start going around, collecting clothes and notebooks of research and whatever else she thinks might be useful. Darcy may act like an airhead sometimes, but Jane knows she can be perfectly practical and smart when she needs to be.

Her attention though now is focused back on Loki, who has yet to move from his spot.

"Hey," she starts quietly, against resting her hand on his arm. "you okay?"

Loki shifts, finally, his head lifting. She doesn't fail to notice that he keeps it turned aside from her though, still not looking at her.

He nods stiffly.

"I am well, thank you." He says rigidly. It's possibly the sloppiest lie she's ever heard come from his lips.

And then he looks down, shaking his head.

"I am… I… apologize… for burdening you with my outbursts. It was unbecoming and… inappropriate, and it will not happen again."

"Loki," Jane says, feeling her stomach clench in disbelief. Of how clinical and shut off he suddenly sounds. Of how reprimanding he is of himself, simply for _showing_ emotion. "It's okay."

And abruptly, he turns to her, and a familiar, burning anger lights his brilliant eyes.

"It is not 'O-K', as you say it." He snaps harshly. "It is weak, and pathetic, and I have embarrassed myself and others, as ever I have." He glares at her unblinking for a long moment, before at last, he turns, and she watches him storm off, long strides carrying him to the couch, where he promptly lets himself fall, back to her, shoulders hunched in on himself.

Jane feels her heart sinking. She thinks maybe she should go over and try talking to him again. To try and make him understand that he has nothing to be ashamed of. That just because he's hurting doesn't make him all of those things he said he was. That he hasn't embarrassed any of them.

But she knows the effort would be in vain.

He's too worked up now. Too mortified by his own show of vulnerability, and likely he would only become angrier at her for not leaving him be.

Thor told her, when they were younger, that whenever Loki was upset, he would always seem to shut down and then storm off, holing himself up in his chambers or the palace library, not emerging again for hours, sometimes even days.

He'd told her he'd always thought it best to simply give his brother his space then. To not pursue and badger him.

Jane thinks that might have been a mistake. That leaving Loki alone to stew in his own unhappiness had contributed to his eventually coming to believe no one cared about him or what he felt.

But she can understand now, looking at Loki, at how caustically and defensively he's reacting, why Thor might have thought what he did.

Thor's mistake, then, she thinks, was in never attempting to seek Loki out later.

She would try just that, once they'd gotten to Eric's and gotten settled.

She wouldn't let Loki be alone.

Not in this.

/

They get to the car under the cloak of Loki's magic. He assures her and Darcy they cannot be seen, but still, Jane feels an almost overwhelming sense of urgency, her steps hurried, barely containing the desire to run across the street and dive into the driver's seat.

Somehow, she keeps herself from it, and she only notices when they're standing beside the back passenger door, her hand is clutched, fingers buried tight in the sleeve of Loki's shirt, grasping to him as a mother might her child, protective and worried.

Loki gives no indication he even notices, standing stiff and unmoving at her side.

"You drive." Jane calls to Darcy, and Darcy only nods, jogging around to the other side.

Jane bends, grabbing hold the door handle and pulling it open.

Loki is unsettlingly pliant as she guides him to bend and get into the back. He has to almost fold in, it seems, his long limbs pressed too close to his body by the front seats, knees pushed up against the upholstery.

He sits with his face turned down, staring at his thin hands, cupped limply in his lap, and Jane considers for a moment, hesitant, before finally thinking screw it and leaning across him, pulling the seatbelt strap over his shoulder and across his chest, buckling him in. She's sure Loki wouldn't have known what to do with the seatbelt, and god or not, she doesn't want him crashing into the windshield should something happen on the way there.

Loki gives no reaction to her doing this, and Jane frowns. It's like he's fallen into some catatonic state since what happened back in her living room, not speaking more than a few, short words, unresponsive by and large.

Not for the first time in the last two or so odd years, Jane thinks she's gotten herself in way over her head. Not for the first time, the thought floats through her mind that it would be better for her and Darcy both, if she were to just call SHIELD up right now and tell them where they are. Tell them she has Loki and that they should come and get him.

She tries telling herself that he isn't her problem. That she shouldn't worry about this because she doesn't owe him anything. And why the hell should she care if a sociopathic, remorseless war criminal gets taken into custody by a government agency and is subjected to torture? Why should she care? Doesn't he deserve it? Doesn't he deserve every bad thing he gets?

But no…

No…

That isn't true. None of it's true.

She does owe Loki. Whether she likes to admit so or not. He saved her life, twice. She wouldn't be here, now, if it weren't for him.

And yes, she knows, he's done such terrible things. Committed atrocities which would justifiably land anyone else in jail for the rest of their natural life. Would have them put to death even. According to their laws.

_Their_ laws.

But Loki isn't one of them, she remembers.

Loki isn't beholden to those thoughts and morals and rights by which humanity governs itself.

Loki was alive and already old by the time most of those laws and moral standards were first being created.

And she thinks, then. She thinks, what right do they… do _any_ of them have to impose upon him what they say and think is right and wrong? Good and bad? Acceptable and not? What right, when Loki will most likely still live by the time the modern world as they know it will have come and gone and been replaced by something else entire a hundred times over or more?

What point would a being such as him find in following the whims and ways of a race so much younger than his own?

Jane has no idea if Loki is actually a god or not. She doesn't even really think she knows what that term means. What it stands for.

But she knows damn well that him, and Thor, and all those other people she met back in Asgard, they're about the closest thing to what she would imagine a god to be that's she's ever seen, and they're _real_. They're tangible and touchable, and she's seen them with her own eyes.

That's more than she's ever gotten from any other god.

In her scientific brain, that's everything.

And besides, she knows, if she let SHIELD come and take Loki away, if she betrayed him like that, Thor would never forgive her.

And she can't do that to Thor. Good, kind, true hearted Thor.

If she has to help Loki until his brother can come and help him himself, well, she figures she owes that to the thunder god if nothing else, for all that he's done for her.

/

The drive to Eric's takes nearly two hours, stuck for long periods as they are in wall to wall traffic.

It's spent mostly in silence, excepting Darcy's inane commentary every, few minutes. But even that begins to dwindle as they make their way from downtown Manhattan to Brooklyn, and there is tension in the air.

Jane keeps looking back at Loki through the rearview mirror. It seems he hasn't moved at all, only staring out the window at the scenery as they pass it by, unresponsive, face a mask of nothing.

By the time they reach Eric's apartment building and are making their way up to his floor by the elevator, Jane's worry has solidified into a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach, and suddenly she's doubting whether this was such a hot idea or not.

She knows Eric is going to freak out.

They'll be lucky if he doesn't call SHIELD himself and rat the lot of them out.

Loki's continued silence is doing nothing to ease her anxiety either. She has no idea what he's thinking. What he may _do_.

She tells herself she shouldn't be so trusting of him. That she should be careful.

A voice in her head tells her that exposing Eric to this is possibly the stupidest, most selfish thing she could do. It's only, just, she doesn't know what _else_ to do.

If Loki does anything to hurt Eric though, well… all bets are off.

It's Darcy who ends up knocking on the door, Jane's concern keeping her suddenly from being able to do so herself, and as the seconds tick by, waiting for a response, she can feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, beating ceaselessly in her ears.

When the sound of locks being unlatched from the other side reaches them, Jane stiffens somehow further, bracing herself against what's to come, hands folding over each other in a tight hold.

And then the door's pulled wide, and Eric is standing there, smiling down at them, and for a moment, Jane doesn't understand.

Shouldn't his face be pulled in an expression of utter shock and dismay? Isn't that supposed to be how he looks? How he's supposed to react to the guy who possessed his mind and made him act against his own will?

Without thinking, Jane glances to her right, where she knows Loki stands, and her eyes go wide, when she's met with nothing but empty space.

And then Eric's voice is breaking into her thoughts.

"Jane! Darcy! What are you doing here?" He checks his watch, shaking his head. "It's nearly two in the morning!"

Where the heck did he go? Jane thinks frantically. Where the heck _did he go_!?

A quick glance at Darcy tells the physicist that she's just as dumbfounded and concerned as herself, and when Jane finally forces her eyes to Eric, it's all she can do not to gasp in shock when she sees Loki standing behind him, already in the apartment, several feet back. Just standing there, expression the same blank mask, hands at his sides.

Her mouth drops open to say something. She doesn't even know _what_. But then Eric has her and Darcy by the hand, and is pulling them inside, asking if everything's alright, asking why they aren't answering.

And Jane's voice isn't working. It's stuck in her throat, trapped there and useless, and a million and one scenarios play through her head in those short seconds, worst case scenarios, assuming the worst, thinking Loki is about to slaughter them all, and why the hell didn't she see this coming? Is she really that naïve? That gullible?

But then Darcy blurts out "Loki!", and Eric freezes.

Loki makes no move. No emotion across his pale face.

Eric is watching hers' and Darcy's eyes, seeing where it is they're looking.

Slowly, the older man turns, glancing over his shoulder, and what happens then is too fast for Jane to really follow, to really register until after the fact.

Eric bursts forward, towards the door, and they see him take up a wooden baseball bat, hefting the thing high, spinning back around and stalking towards Loki with no seeming fear, no hesitation.

Both Jane's and Darcy's eyes go wide, mouths falling open as they realize, belatedly, what it is Eric intends.

Jane's hand reaches out, uselessly, and a strangled cry of "NO!" rips from her lips in the split second before Eric swings.

The loud CRACK is what registers in Jane's mind before anything else. And for a single, horrifying moment, she thinks 'Oh God, he's killed him!'.

And then she sees the wood splitting, flying in every which direction like it's exploded from within.

She sees the thick wood of the bat snap and splinter out in shards, and she sees Loki's head turned, just the slightest margin to the right, his eyes briefly closing before opening again, straightening himself back upright, staring down at Eric without emotion.

He's uninjured. Barely moved from an impact that would have caved in the skulls of any human being, and Jane thinks she's going to be sick.

Eric allows himself only a brief instant of utter shock, before his face twists in rage, and he's tossing the now broken end of the bat aside and coming at Loki again, hands finding the collar of the god's shirt, burying in the material.

He begins trying to shake Loki, screaming in his face, trying to push him back.

And Loki lets him.

He stands there, passive and face blank, staring down at the old man as Eric shoves him back against a wall.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He cries, voice cracking with the intensity of his rage. "YOU BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU! YOU HEAR ME!? I'LL KILL YOU!"

Loki gives no reaction. Does nothing as Eric reaches up, hands pressing against the god's face, as though he's trying to smother him, pressing his head back against the wall.

And Loki lets him.

Jane's hands are at her mouth, for a moment paralyzed by what's happening. Unable to believe it.

And then Eric is shouting for them to run, to get out and call the police, and Jane sees Eric ripping at Loki's hair, trying to hurt him, and it all comes rushing in at once.

This is how Loki's deals with it, she realizes.

This is how Loki takes the hate of others.

Oh, Christ, he shuts down.

He just shuts all the way down.

"Eric, STOP!" She cries, suddenly lurching into action.

Without thought, she rushes forward, hands out reached. And in the next instant, she's pulling Eric off of Loki, pushing him back and putting herself between them. "STOP!" She cries again.

Eric is breathing heavily, staring down at her in clear bemusement, brows furrowed and frown heavy across his lips.

"Stop…" she says again, keeping her hand on his chest, as though to keep him back. "He's with us. Okay? He's here with us."

Behind her, Loki doesn't make a sound. A sharp contrast to Eric's exertion, the god is perfectly still and seemingly calm.

Jane turns to him, reaching up and touching his face delicately, cautiously, as though afraid she might hurt him.

"Are you okay?" She asks. "Jesus…"

Loki only stares down at her as she studies his face, searching studiously for any injury.

"Jane, what are you…" Eric begins, confusion only growing.

"He came to me. Okay?" She says, turning to the older man once she's sure Loki is alright. "He's got nowhere else to go, and he came to me for help. I owe it to him Eric. Alright? SHIELD is after him, and he needs somewhere to stay."

And suddenly Eric's confusion seems to break, and his eyes go wide in horror.

"Jane, have you _completely_ lost your mind?!" He asks, voice rising. "He's a God damned LUNATIC! Do you have any idea!? You don't… you have no clue what he's capable of! What he can do! He's going to kill all of us! He's going to…"

"He saved my life Eric!" Jane cuts him off abruptly, voice harsher than she'd intended it to be. And that halts the older physicists' tirade, his mouth closing with an audible click.

Jane's shoulders sag. Whether in relief or exhaustion, she doesn't know.

"What?" Eric finally manages, no small amount of disbelief thick in his voice.

Jane swallows, looking away, to the floor.

"He saved my life." She whispers. "More… more than once Eric."

She forces her eyes back to him.

"I'd be dead now if it wasn't for him. I…" she pauses, swallowing again thickly. "I know what he did to you. I know it was _jacked_, and believe me when I tell you I'm just as angry and disgusted at him about it as you are. But, he could have let me die so many times. He could have killed me so many times. And he didn't. And I _owe _him. Alright? He served his time on Asgard for what he did, he served to save them _all_ afterwards. That's it. That's all. We need somewhere to lay low for a few days. And I'm here to ask you if you're willing to put us up, just until we figure something else out. _I'm_ asking you Eric. If not, tell us now, and we'll be on our way."

Eric blinks, stunned, for the moment, silent.

And then his eyes move rapidly, to Loki, over her shoulder, back to her, and to him again, and then her.

"Jane?" He asks, voice disbelieving. "You… you can't be serious. You can't…"

Jane only stares back at him, unflinching.

His eyes snap to Darcy, almost imploring, and Jane forcefully pushes down the guilt trying to work its way up through her gut.

"Don't look at me." Darcy shrugs. "I'm just the innocent bystander caught in the crossfire, as usual."

"What's it gonna be Eric?" Jane calls his attention back, her arms crossed over her chest. "Yes or no? Right now."

/

**AN: As always, thank you so much to all my readers and reviewers! I hope you're continuing to enjoy the story, and please let me know what you thought of the chapter!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

He lets them stay.

Of course he does.

Eric would never let her go off by herself. Not with Loki. Not when he knew.

He lets them stay, but he isn't happy, and none of them have seen the old physicist since he disappeared into his bedroom not ten minutes after they'd arrived.

Jane had shortly thereafter suggested they all try and get some sleep. Eric had only one guest room in his apartment, and Jane was going to offer it to Loki. But the god had insisted that it was only proper she and Darcy be given the space, and had refused any arrangement other than that.

Jane shouldn't have been surprised, she supposed. Unstable as Loki was, he was still a Prince. He still had the upbringing of royalty. Still conducted himself thus as a gentleman.

After making sure the mischief god had a pillow and blanket to use on the couch, making sure he was comfortable, Jane and Darcy had retired to their room.

And here Jane's lain for the past two hours, unable to sleep a wink.

Darcy, much to Jane's admitted jealousy, had fallen asleep shortly after she'd gotten into bed, and Jane hoped she wasn't selfish enough to wake her just because she found herself restless.

But her mind keeps ticking back over everything from the past two days. Keeps torturing her with what may come from all of this craziness, giving her only ominous predictions.

She's scared, and she doesn't know what to do, and oh God, she wishes Thor were here. He'd know what to do. He'd know how to handle all of this.

She thinks she must be mad herself, consorting with Loki the way she is, exposing her friends to him, to someone so obviously dangerous.

Christ, why didn't she tell him to _go_ when she had the chance? When he'd offered to leave? What the hell was she _thinking_!?

Jane frowns to herself at the thought.

Maybe it was that she wasn't thinking at all, is the problem.

It was something beyond logic which had told her to not turn Loki away.

Something of emotion.

Loki was broken.

She saw it every time she looked at his youthful face, and despite everything, despite the violence and the anger and the viciousness, behind the glass of his eyes, he was broken, and lost, and just as confused as any of them, Jane was willing to bet.

Every time she looked at his face, and all she could really see was a terrified little boy with no way in the world, and no one to call friend. No one to seek for protection.

Loki broke her heart.

She doesn't even know when she realized it.

And she can't sleep, and it's too hot in this fucking room, and God damn it all!

Jane tosses the covers off of her, fed up with trying, with her brain running her in messed up circles.

A glass of water sounds like a good option, and a good distraction.

Quietly as she can then, she pads across the small space of the bedroom, cracking the door open and stepping out into the short hallway.

She tries to keep her steps even and measured, hoping for silence as she makes her way to the kitchen.

Entering the living room, and her eyes immediately shift to the couch, finding Loki a huddled ball underneath the thin blanket she'd earlier provided him. He's still, and Jane smiles at the sight, not allowing herself to think too hard on why the thought of Loki finding rest brings her a kind of warmth.

The lights in the place are dimmed to their lowest setting, and Jane manages not to trip over anything on her way to the cupboards, trying to be as quiet as she can while removing a glass and stepping to the water filter on the fridge.

She's got it nearly halfway filled when she gasps, almost dropping the thing as she hears Loki speak from across the room.

"Can't sleep?" He asks.

Jane clutches at her chest, sucking in a breath as she turns around to face him.

She sees him lying in the same position as before, only his eyes are open and clear across the space, the unnatural green glow regarding her carefully.

He's wearing nothing more than a white t-shirt, his arms pale and thin, and Jane thinks she can make out the elastic band of a pair of sweatpants just above the lip of the blanket. The casualness of his dress strikes her as bizarre, she's so used to seeing him dressed in only the most formal of wear, and briefly, the thought crosses her mind as to where he got the clothes.

"Jesus!" She gasps again, chest heaving.

She can see Loki's face shift into what she thinks is a frown before he's pushing himself up to a seated position.

"Forgive me." He says. "I've startled you."

Jane nods, still breathing heavily, eyes wide.

And then Loki is smiling vaguely.

"I should perhaps have extended you the same courtesy you had afforded me while observing my doings under the guise of feigned sleep."

Jane gapes.

"That…" she starts, then stops. "you… but you were… I thought"

Loki laughs softly.

"I told you Jane, there are few within the Nine who may lay claim to the ability to catch Loki Liesmith unawares."

For a moment, Jane can only stare at him, mind struggling to catch up. And then her gaze turns to a glare, and she points angrily at him.

"You sneaky bastard!" She snaps, and Loki only laughs again.

"I have been addressed as such many a time in my long life, fair Lady. You are hardly the first."

"So was that… that whole… _thing_, just for show?!" Jane demands.

Loki's brows crease in seeming confusion.

"I beg pardon." He replies. "I'm not sure I know your meaning."

"The… the whole thing!" Jane tries, and fails, to articulate, waving her hand in a grand gesture. "You know, the whole Crocodile Dundee, adorable, lost in a world of unknown technology act! That was all for show?"

Loki finally catches her meaning, and his smile widens, shaking his head.

"Oh, no." He says. "I assure you Jane, I have never before lain my eyes on a… what was that word printed on the strange containers surface? Peps…I?"

Jane stares blankly a moment.

"Pepsi?" She finally supplies, and Loki's smile broadens to a grin, nodding enthusiastically.

"Ah, indeed. A Pep-see. I have never before seen, nor tasted its like. And as much can be said for the strange little sponge cakes I found in the noisy packets. All of it was almost nauseatingly sweet, and the drink left a strange tingling sensation down my throat, but I found myself able to adjust after some minutes, and even rather enjoyed the taste."

Jane, again, finds herself momentarily stunned silent, before her brain kicks back into gear, and she blurts out with no real purpose…

"It's soda."

Loki's head cocks to one side.

"Pardon?"

"Soda." Jane repeats. "The Pepsi. It's this drink called soda. They carbonate it, so that's where the strange tingling sensation comes from. Pepsi is just one kind. There's lots of different flavors and… brands and… things…"

Her voice trails off as she realizes what's she saying, and suddenly she feels like a complete moron, taking in Loki's perplexed appearance. Why the heck would he want to know about _soda_?

But after a moment, the god nods, as if in understanding.

"Ah!" He exclaims. "Another oddity of Midgardian culture. You humans invent the queerest distractions."

Jane isn't quite sure what to say to that, so she says nothing, the space falling into an awkward silence, and after a moment, Jane finds herself having to look away from Loki, as he stares back at her so intently.

God, she really wished he wouldn't look at her like that.

"Well…" she forces her voice out after nearly a minute, still keeping her eyes averted. "I just came to, you know…" she holds up the half full glass of water, as if to indicate her intent. "sooo, I guess I'll just be… heading back off to bed… now…"

Christ on a crutch, she wants to pound her own face against a wall, this is so embarrassing.

She starts moving across the living room, back towards the hall, and just as she passes the couch, she feels her wrist suddenly caught in an alarmingly cool grip, and she freezes.

"Jane…" she hears Loki say, his voice low, almost whispered.

Jane swallows, a long instant passing before she replies.

"Yeah?" She asks, still not looking at him.

"… Why are you doing this?" She hears him ask, and immediately, she looks up, and sees him staring up at her with such focused intensity, it's almost as though she's taken a physical blow to the face. His eyes are so bright.

"What?" She stammers after a moment.

His fingers come loose from around her wrist, his hand slipping down to rest at his side, and the rush of warmth back into her skin is a shock. She doesn't know why she hasn't noticed until now just how _cold_ Loki is to the touch.

He's still looking at her.

"Why are you doing this?" He repeats. "Why are you helping me?"

For a moment, Jane's brain goes paralyzed.

Why was she helping him?

… Why… was she helping him?

She shrugs, looking away again.

"I dunno." She says, almost sulkily.

She sees Loki shift to face her more directly out of the periphery of her vision.

"After all I have done to you," he says. "after all I have done to your people, your planet… to your surrogate father…"

That draws Jane's eyes back.

"And you tell me you do not know why it is you help me." The incredulousness is evident in his voice, and his eyes are burning with such heavy suspicion, Jane almost feels guilty, although over what, she has no clue.

Again, she shrugs, wishing he would just drop this, just let her go back to her room and try and fall back asleep.

"Jane," Loki isn't going to let her. "I would have an answer from you."

"I don't know!" She snaps, eyes moving back to him. "Okay?! I just… I don't know. Because I owe you I guess! Because you saved my life two times, and instead of being a total piece of shit and leaving you out in the cold, I thought maybe I should return the favor any way I could! Is that good enough for you? Because I owe you a debt!"

Loki stares back at her, expression, as always, unreadable.

And then, slowly, he shakes his head, and at last, his eyes slip away from her, staring down at his own lap.

"You owe me nothing." He says, voice almost inaudibly soft.

Jane blinks.

"How can you say that?" She asks. "I would be dead right now if it wasn't for you. I would…"

"I did not save you those times for your benefit, Jane." He cuts her off, gaze still directed down. "It was incidental. The first time, I needed Thor to allow me the chance to take my revenge upon my Mother's killer, and I doubted very much he would acquiesce should I allow his beloved to be killed when I could have as easily prevented such. The second time, well, you just happened to be in the way."

For the second time that night, silence falls over them.

Jane's breath feels like it's trapped in her throat. Like she can't get herself to make a sound.

There is such utter self-loathing in Loki's voice, and it makes something deep inside her feel as though it's being crushed to powder.

"You are a clever enough girl, I should think…" Loki begins again, voice drifting up to her. "to have realized all of this. So you will pardon me, perhaps, for failing to believe the matter of supposed debt to be the reasoning for your actions here."

And he was right.

Of course he was.

That's what Jane had been telling herself. That she was helping Loki because she was obligated to do so. But that was a lie. One she told to herself to make her feel less bad about _wanting_ to help someone who everyone else had told her was evil and sadistic and completely beyond redemption.

And with that realization, the acknowledgment that she's been trying to justify her offered help to herself because she's let herself be convinced Loki doesn't deserve it, as she stares down at Loki's lax and defeated figure, as she listens to the disgust for himself, so clear in his voice, it makes her own feelings of such overwhelming self-hate bubble up inside, she can practically feel herself chocking on it.

"Loki, I…" she starts.

"Is it pity, Jane?" He cuts her off, and suddenly his face lifts, and he's looking back at her with that same intentness. "Because if it is, then as I told you once before, I advise you hold to it for the sake of one who is both in need and deserving of such." There is an edge to the god's voice now. Some bizarre mix of defensiveness and longing. "You should never pity a monster Jane."

"Loki," Jane says, turning fully towards him, moving back around so that she is in front of him now. "you aren't a monster."

Loki stares back at her with an expression of sneered disbelief.

"Truly?" He bites back. "Then what, pray tell, would you call one such as I? Born of a race of monsters, deemed so monstrous myself as to be unworthy of even them?"

His voice is thick and ragged, like he's fighting something back.

"One such as I, who could and would and has killed hundreds of your kind, and hundreds several times over of other beings through the Nine? Creatures woefully incapable of defending themselves against the might of a god. What, then, would you call a war monger, and a lunatic, and a usurper of a throne not his? What then would you call a man who by his own hand ended the life of his father? Has tried several times to end the life of his would be brother? What would you call me, fare Jane, if not a monster?"

And Jane feels herself sinking down, slumping to the coffee table at her back, sitting before him. For a moment, her mind is blank. She shakes her head.

"I don't know." She finally says, voice nearly a whisper. "I don't know what I would call you Loki."

She glances up at him, and he's staring at her with that same, uncanny intelligence, and she's struck by a sudden strange warmth at it.

It was true, everything Loki said. He'd done all those things. He'd done _terrible_ things.

But before all of that, there had been literally _thousands _of years of him doing remarkable things. Amazing and wonderful and _brilliant_ things. Thor had told her. He'd told her so many things about his little brother, about how incredible and clever and beautiful Loki had been. Before everything.

And his Mother… Frigga… she had told her too…

Was it really right, Jane thinks, to be judged solely for a two year period of madness and violence, when stacked against countless centuries of good and brave and true endeavors? When stacked against millennia of self-sacrifice for the good of others?

Again, Jane shakes her head.

"You kinda defy definition Loki." She says, keeping her tone light, smiling at him because it's true.

Loki shakes his head back, almost frantically.

"I defy nothing." He hisses. "I have been labeled and treated as a monster almost my entire life, and I have met those expectations spectacularly. I am the very thing they have always said I was."

"No, Loki…" Jane protests, and without even thinking, she reaches out, grasping hold of his hand, having again to swallow back a gasp at the coolness of his skin. She wonders idly what his body temp would be if she stuck a thermometer in his mouth.

For a moment, she feels him tense, and she thinks he'll pull out of her grasp. But he doesn't. He just sits there, staring at her.

"Loki," she begins again. "if you were really a monster, do you think Thor would love you the way he does?"

Loki scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning away.

"Thor, the sentimental fool. He is incapable of hating anyone. Most vitally, those who deserve his hatred. I would not use his affection for me as any sort of measure as to my own redeeming qualities."

Jane's hand tightens around his.

"And your Mother?" She asks, bracing herself.

For once, predictably, Loki's eyes snap back to her, and he says nothing.

"Was Frigga a fool to love you also Loki?"

"My Mother was the wisest of us!" The god snaps defensively. "You dare speak ill of her wi…"

"Do you think Frigga would have loved you as fiercely as she did if you were really a monster, Loki?" Jane cuts him off, and to her own shock, it seems, for once, it's him who is stunned speechless.

It lasts only a moment though, before he's pulling his hand free of hers, frame rigid and cold, face turning away as he crosses his arms across himself.

"You know nothing of my Mother's emotions towards me." He mutters, and even Jane can hear the defeat in his voice.

"I know something…" Jane says back softly.

And that brings the trickster's attention back her way.

"_How_!?" He bites. "How would you possibly know what she thou…"

"Because she spoke to me about you Loki." Jane again interrupts him, calmly. And again, Loki is stunned silent. "Before she died. She spoke to me about you extensively."

For the briefest of moments, there is such a powerful flash of overwhelming hope in Loki's eyes, that it makes Jane's heart hurt. He leans forward unconsciously, towards her in some sort of desperate longing.

And just as quickly as it comes, it fades, and Loki falls back, averting his eyes, arms crossed back across himself.

"Did she?" He mumbles, seemingly to himself.

Jane nods.

"Yeah, she did."

"And of what did she speak?" He hisses back. "Doubtless her undying disappointment in me as a son. Her shame and embarrassment in having my name as a stain upon the House of Odin…"

"Oh Jesus, Loki." Jane shakes her head. "You don't even know, do you?"

Loki's eyes flit back to her, weary and broken.

"You were the light of her life." She continues, and she can feel the tears stinging at the backs of her eyes in remembrance of Frigga's voice, telling her about the bright joy that was her youngest child. "She told me," Jane goes on. "she said you were the child of her heart. Those were _her_ words."

Loki says nothing, only continues to look back at her with an expression of such loss.

A tear escapes down Jane's left cheek, and she wipes at it absently.

"She told me that she loved both you and Thor equally, but that it was you she always felt closest to. It was you who she connected most with."

Loki looks away then.

"Stop it." He croaks out, voice weak suddenly. "Why do you tell me lies?"

"I'm not Loki. I _swear_, I'm not. She loved you so much. She _adored _you. If only you could've heard her talk about you. She spoke about how brilliant your mind was. How even as a baby, you showed signs of being frighteningly intelligent, and how proud she was of you. She talked about how gifted you were, how amazing your magic was, and your understanding of it. She said you were the most gifted sorcerer Asgard had ever known. More talented than even Odin. And she just went on and on about how in awe of you she was."

Loki is shaking his head, still refusing to meet her eyes. But Jane doesn't let it deter her. She goes on, because Loki needs to hear this. He _needs_ to.

"She told me all of these stories Loki." She says. "Oh, if you could've heard the adoration in her voice. She told me about how from the time you were a little boy, you would always look for her and just want to spend the whole day with her, instead of messing around with the other kids, like Thor. She said you were unusual in the most beautiful ways. Like no child she'd ever known. She told me about how you used to sit with her in her chambers, or in her gardens, and how you would read poetry to her, how you always insisted on you being the one to entertain her, to read to her instead of her to you.

"She told me about how whenever you'd figured out some new spell, it was her you would always go to to show first. And about how your entire face would just light up with happiness and excitement. And she said how proud she was of you Loki. How her amazement in you grew every, single day, because you were just so incredible."

Still, Loki is turned away from her, still shaking his head, his hands now gripping, fingers buried in his impossibly black hair, eyes squeezed shut, as though it physically pains him to hear all this.

"She told me her single, greatest regret was ever lying to you Loki." Jane pushes on. "She said it was the one thing she would never forgive herself for. For lying to you for so long. Because she knew you were sensitive. She knew how much it would hurt you to eventually find out the truth. And she never doubted for a second you would. She said you were too intelligent not to." Jane smiles briefly at that. "But she knew it would crush you, and still she didn't say anything, and she said that was something she could never forgive herself for. That you deserved so much better than that. She blamed herself for what happened to you."

Loki is shaking his head frantically now, fingers digging into his scalp.

"No," he says, voice wavering and thick. "no, it wasn't her fault. It was never her…"

"She believed in you Loki. Even when you didn't believe in yourself, she said."

Loki glances up at her finally, and she sees his eyes, wet with unshed tears.

"She told me about how you were always sick as a child." Jane goes on quietly. "About you being physically frail."

Loki's hands grip harder, his face contorting in seeming agony.

"She told me how you almost died several times, and how whenever you got sick like that, she would sit by your bed and not leave your side until you pulled through." Jane pauses, wiping at her own eyes again. "She told me how the other children used to make fun of you for being weak, and how you'd begun to believe it yourself. And she would sit with you whenever you were sick, and tell you how strong you were, and that she knew you were going to be alright, _because _you were strong. Because you were brave…"

And unbidden, the memories come flooding back into Loki's mind, taking hold and refusing to relinquish their grasp, consuming and suffocating and whole…

_He comes to through a half-remembered daze, as though through a thick, blinding fog at sea, lids heavy and uncooperative, limbs and body much the same._

_Mind just as slowed._

_For a moment, he feels the burgeoning of panic._

_He can feel his skin overheating. Can feel the weight of it as it presses down and suffocates him, and suddenly his chest feels too tight, and he can't get any air, and his skin is on fire, and oh, _gods_, it is as being in the fires of Muspleheim, and he's scared. He's so scared._

_He flails, eyes snapping open, a ragged gasp tearing from his lips._

"_GAHHHHH!" He cries, voice pitched high and broken. He tries sitting up frantically, but he is weak, and his arms won't work properly, and he has no strength to hold himself up._

_And then there are hands on his bare shoulders, cool and soothing and soft. And he hears a voice, just as soothing, just as soft, hushing him gently and pressing him again to his back with patience and care._

"_Shhh, my child. Calm yourself. Calm yourself."_

_His eyes snap up, searching desperately. Fever bright and filled with tears. He blinks rapidly to clear them from his vision, and when at last it comes clean, he sees her. _

_Mother._

_And he almost sobs in relief._

_She is smiling at him, if only vaguely, and he feels the cool press of her palm against his forehead._

"_There you are, my darling boy." She says._

_Loki blinks, more tears escaping down his flushed cheeks, and the smile melts from the Queen's lips._

_She reaches for something out of his line of sight, never taking her eyes from him._

_He hears the splash of water, and a moment later, she has a cool cloth pressed where her palm had been, and then wiping gently at his cheeks, under his eyes._

"_Mother…?" he chokes, voice frail and exhausted and nearly soundless._

"_Yes, Loki." She nods, pressing the cloth again to his forehead. "I am here."_

"_I can't…" he breathes out in a haggard sigh._

_Frigga's brow creases, a frown pulling at her lips._

_More tears pool and slip from the boy's eyes, and he turns his face away from her, as though is shame._

"_Loki, what is it my child?" She softly turns his face back._

_His eyes are closed, and she sees his chest rising and falling in a staccato beat, shallow and too fast._

"_I can't b-breathe…" he whimpers. "I'm so hot… so h-hot…"_

_It takes all of the Queen's strength in that moment to not cry._

"_Oh, my boy." She whispers._

_It is the past three days and a week, Loki has been ill with fever, with no sign yet of it breaking._

_She fears._

_For while her boy is strong of will, he is so young yet, and physically unhealthy._

_On the cusp now of an age where he would normally be determined old enough to begin weapons training, he is instead still too small, and too fragile to safely allow it._

_And though Thor is a mere two centuries and half a decade his elder, he is strong and broad and already well past his Mother in height, while Loki languishes with the top of his head just barely reaching half past her chest, his frame thin and wan and small._

_It has been so since he was but a babe, and it is no surprise. Born so frighteningly undersized, he has since struggled with the fight to remain hale and whole, as his peers seem so effortlessly to achieve. _

_She knows it troubles Loki, this physical frailty._

_His brother has never been ill for more than a day at a time, and never anything so sever as Loki's fevers. _

"_Come…" Frigga bids as her youngest son continues to weep softly to himself, face lined in pain with the effort to draw enough breath into his lungs._

_She slips her arm beneath his shoulders, leaning him gently and slowly up, and slightly forward, holding him steady._

_Nothing covers him but a thin blanket across his lap, and still, his pale skin glistens under profuse sweat, gleaming under the soft glow of the sunlight, filtering through the drawn window drapes._

_His hair sticks to his face and forehead, matted with moisture, and Frigga pushes it kindly back, behind his ears, letting her fingers massage against his scalp as she does._

_His breathing eases somewhat, but still, she can see it is strained, and he'll need something more._

_Patiently, she dips the cloth back into the bowl of chilled water, not ringing it out this time as she brings it to him, dragging it across his skin, over his bony shoulders, across his back, then his chest and stomach. It makes her frown, that she can see his ribs so prominently underneath his skin. _

_Where Thor is already so muscular, thick and powerful, his skin hard with the sun and dust of the training rings, Loki is but loose flesh over bones, skin soft and smooth and vulnerable. _

_She desires suddenly and desperately to never let anyone lay a hand on him. To never let anyone bruise this pristine and unconditioned form._

_But she knows already she's failed in that. Loki comes to her every day, it seems, with a fresh bruise to mark another unkind encounter in his young life._

_Finally, resting the still waterlogged cloth at the nape of his neck, she squeezes, letting the water run free and cool over his shoulders, down his back and front._

"_Better?" She asks, and he nods weakly, eyes still closed, face still wet with tears._

"_I have a potion to help ease your breathing." She says, replacing the cloth back in the bowl, and taking up a small container of something white and bitter smelling. Her other arm is wrapped securely round Loki's shoulders, keeping him steady, as she takes up some of the oily substance onto her fingers._

"_I'm going to rub this into your skin now, child. Yes?"_

_And again Loki nods in reply, lids still shut against the world._

_His trust in her is implicit, she knows. Anyone else he would watch with wary suspicion._

_A boy so young, and already he knew too well what is deceit and lies and pain._

_Carefully, she rubs the oil into his back, hand moving is slow, even circles, and she hears an exhausted sigh drag past his lips, his body growing limper, more relaxed._

_It is no trouble then, easing him to his back once more, and repeating the motion against his chest, rubbing the oil in slow circles until it vanishes, leaving only a thin coat over sweat slicked skin._

_His eyes have come open now, and he watches her through dulled comprehension. His normally bright green irises dark and clouded_

_She knows he's confused, as he always becomes during these illnesses. And she knows it is perhaps that which frightens the child most of all. His normally razor sharp, quicksilver mind slowed and halting._

_His only, real weapon, beyond his still burgeoning magic._

_She smiles softly at him, again pushing his wet hair back off his face, bending and pressing a kiss to his forehead._

"_All will be well Loki." She promises in a whisper._

_More tears slip from his eyes, his color more pale than usual._

"_I feel sick." He says in a near soundless voice, and Frigga's brow furrows._

"_Are you nauseas?" She asks, and he nods, again turning his face away in embarrassment. _

"_Come, do you feel the need to expel?"_

_Another nod, and the Queen gives no hesitation, again slipping her hands beneath his arms and lifting him back up slowly._

_She counts them lucky to have acted when she did, as not a more than a few moments after, Loki wretches, and Frigga only just manages to grab up an empty bowel and hold it beneath him before he's throwing up into it. _

_Her lips pull down in concern at the white, frothy mixture which dribbles into the container. _

_Loki has only eaten sporadically since falling ill, and what he manages, he rarely is able to keep down. He's lost too much weight these past, few days, when already he is so seriously under what he should be._

_Now all he has left in him is water and saliva. _

_Again, he wretches, and again, he vomits, and then he is overcome with vicious tremors, racking his thin frame, and Frigga holds him tight, resting her cheek upon the crown of his head and shushing him gently._

"_I'm frightened." He says after a minute, voice thick with tears, and her heart sinks._

"_I know Loki." She answers. "I know."_

"… _Why am I like this?" He cries weakly. _

_And for a moment, Frigga has to look away, the weight on her heart too heavy, looking down at him._

"… _I know not, my child." She says, and it's a lie, and she hates herself for it. _

_She forces her gaze back to him._

"_You are simply different, my son."_

"_I am weak." He says, and his voice is so small._

_She shakes her head, again pushing his hair from his face, wiping at his cheeks and mouth with a wet cloth before she's certain the nausea has passed, and she eases him carefully onto his back._

"_No." She answers. "You are different."_

"_The others are never sick as I am." He weeps in return. "Thor is never sick as I am. I am weak."_

"_Loki, no." Frigga says firmly, shaking her head. "No. Your true strength lies not in arms, but in your mind and your heart, and in your will. You are as strong as any warrior of Asgard has ever been, or will ever be."_

_Loki's eyes drift away from her._

"_Not as strong as Thor." He whispers._

"_As strong as Thor." Frigga insists, once more turning him to face her. "You trust in your Mother's word, do you not Loki? You trust in me to tell you the truth?"_

_He nods, more tears slipping free, and Frigga feels her guts twist at her own hypocrisy._

"_Then trust in me when I say you are strong, and you will make it through this, as always you do."_

_She sees the child swallow thickly, struggling in that simple motion, and then his hands are drawing up against his chest, and he whines softly._

"_I'm scared Mother. I'm scared. Everything hurts. It hurts."_

_And whatever relaxation she'd coaxed into him over the past, few minutes, suddenly vanishes, and tension seizes his limbs, eyes filling with yet more tears._

_In the next instant, he is again flailing, trying desperately to push himself up._

"_Don't leave me Mother!" He cries in broken terror. "Please don't leave me!"_

"_Loki," The Queen starts, barely suppressing her own panic. "stay calm, child. Be calm." She reaches out, taking hold of his arms._

_She can see he needs to sit up suddenly. That he is fighting to sit up out of pure fear. And so she lifts him._

_And at once he is throwing himself into her arms._

_The blanket covering his lower half falls away, and he is left completely naked. But there is no need for modesty, for shyness around her. She is his Mother, and he knows she won't judge him. She won't laugh, like the others._

_His thin arms come around her neck, and he's falling half into her lap, no matter being much too big to be held in such a manner._

_He is trembling, shaking almost uncontrollably, and she holds him back, against her chest, her hand bending his head to rest against her shoulder._

_And then she hears the sharp gasp, and the ragged breath as he chokes out in a sob against her._

"_I don't want to die like this Mother." He weeps. "I won't be allowed a place in Valhalla if I die like this…"_

_His voice is thick with fear and desperation, and Frigga can only hold him tighter and hush him, and tell him again and again that he is going to be alright. That he isn't going to die here. Not this day. Because he's too strong. He's too strong to let this take him._

_And he begs her not to leave him._

_He begs her to promise she'll never leave his side._

"_I promise Loki." She whispers against his ear, pressing a kiss to his sweat soaked hair, to his temple. "I promise I'll always be with you, right here."_

"She promised me…" Loki's voice comes out a ragged whisper, his face still turned away.

Jane says nothing, watching him, sick anxiety coiling in her stomach.

"She gave me her word, she…" and the god's voice cracks, trailing off. He shakes his head. "She gave me her word she would stay with me…"

The anxiety building is Jane hardens at once to sorrow, and she has to fight to make her voice work when she says…

"Oh Loki, she wanted to."

Loki glances to her, face lined in pain, eyes wet with unshed tears, and she pushes on.

"She wanted to stay with you. And I know… I _know_ if she'd been able to, if there was any way she could, she would have. She'd have fought for you 'till the end. She loved you so much Loki. Please believe that. There's nothing she wouldn't have done for you if she could have, I know that."

For a long, few moments, Loki says nothing, does nothing. Only stares back at Jane, expression unreadable.

And for those few moments, Jane feels her nerves take hold, suddenly worried she's said the wrong thing. That she's crossed some boundary she shouldn't have. That's she's somehow offended him.

But then she sees his thin lips move.

She hears him speak.

"I see…"

Jane blinks.

"I'm sorry?" She asks, uncertain if she'd really heard him, or if it was simply her imagination.

"I see now," Loki says, and he's looking back at her suddenly with flustering intensity. "Why Thor is taken with you as he is."

He smiles, the expression frail, eyes sad, thick with what Jane thinks is pain and longing and regret.

She thinks.

And suddenly the god is standing, and stepping to her.

Suddenly he has her face cupped in his large, thin hands, and he's bending down, and she feels the cool, soft press of his lips against her forehead. The most chaste of kisses.

And when he pulls back, she can only stare dumbly, and see the still sad, frail smile upon his face, his head bowing to her in true regard.

"Thank you, Jane Foster." He says quietly. "Never have I known greater kindness than from you."

Jane can think of nothing to say to that.

Can only look back, a strange warmth spreading within her chest at the thought she'd somehow done right by a broken god.

/

**AN: As always guys, a huge thank you to all who've read and reviewed. Hope you continue to enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

"_Like this, Loki." Thor says, reaching over his little brother's slim shoulders, larger hands clasping round his on the hilt of the wooden practice sword, gently moving them into proper position._

_Loki is struggling._

_His thin limbs shake with exhaustion, his breaths coming shallow and fast, sweat gathered thick along his forehead, under the arms and down the back and chest of his cotton tunic._

_Thor had suggested an hour and some several minutes ago that they quit for the day, but Loki had insisted they continue in their lessons, determined to improve himself._

_Thor is both proud and worried for his younger sibling._

_They've been at this for the past, few weeks. Private sessions between them. Thor's suggestion after finding Loki crying one day after a particularly brutal training session with their weapons master. The other pupils had laughed and made fun of the second Prince for his ineptness and weak physicality. And a few of the other students had even made a target of him, knocking him around more harshly than was necessary, purposefully humiliating him in front of the others. _

_Thor had complained angrily to their teacher, imploring him to put a stop to the bullying, but Master Tyr had seen nothing wrong with it, stating it was good for the second son of Odin, that it would help him to develop greater strength._

_But Thor knew that wasn't true. Few people knew Loki as he did. Fewer still understood him._

_His little brother was sensitive._

_Easily hurt, and those hurts he held on to, rooted deep. He couldn't let go, and these days it wasn't unusual for Thor to find Loki withdrawn and quiet. Almost, it sometimes seemed, depressed._

_And it's such a change, from how Thor remembers his wonderful little brother, even from just a few, short years ago, always laughing and smiling and so, so sweet._

_Ever since Loki turned of an age to begin weapons training, Thor had realized, and had been taken out of the relative isolation and safety of the palace, exposed to other children, both his age and older. That was when this change had begun to overcome the second Prince._

_When he'd been exposed to the unkind judgments of other children. And Thor, much to his own shame, in those first years, had often joined in with his friends and those other of his peers, in laughing and making jest of Loki's struggles._

_But since he'd realized, at his oft dull-witted pace, how it hurt his brother, he's tried his best not to laugh at Loki. Not over this._

_Though still, at times, he finds himself slip, chuckling at Loki's clumsy, awkward movements in the ring._

_But he is determined now to spare his brother the humiliation of such easy defeat at the hands of the others._

_And since Tyr refuses to give Loki any specialized attention, refuses the younger Prince private lessons, away from the jeers and taunts of the other students, Thor has taken it upon himself to teach his little brother instead._

_The smile Thor received upon his suggestion is alone enough to have made the endeavor worth it._

_Thor hasn't seen Loki smile as such in far, far too long._

"_Like this, Thor?" The younger god asks, letting Thor guide his handle on the faux weapon._

"_Aye, very good brother." Thor smiles, and from his periphery, he can see Loki smile too._

"_Now," Thor goes on, "spread your stance, like so…" he instructs, gently nudging the toe of his boot against Loki's heels, coaxing him to widen the space between his feet. Loki complies without question, and when Thor places his hand upon the smaller boy's shoulder, urging him to lower himself closer to the ground to center his balance, Loki again follows without complaint._

_He can feel the tension thrumming through Loki's small frame, coiled tight and ready, and again, Thor smiles._

_Loki is so much stronger than the others ever give him credit for. If not in physical prowess, than in will._

_He's never yet seen Loki give up when he's set his mind to a thing._

"_Is… is my stance well?" The second Prince asks, voice unsure._

_And Thor nods, still with his hands on Loki's own, around the hilt of the sword._

"_Aye." He answers. "Now, you strike the opponent thus."_

_And he draws Loki's arms back, before swinging them down, the movement slow and careful for observation, the sword angled so that its edge meets the midriff of the stuffed practice dummy in a perfect blow._

"_And now the other side." Thor goes on, repeating the action at the dummy's left hand side._

_For the next, several minutes, Thor takes Loki through the motions, left, right, right, left, showing the smaller boy how properly to bring the blade down upon an enemy's flesh, to land the most effective blow possible, and Loki willingly and with rapt attention allows his elder brother to guide him._

_Finally, when Thor feels Loki has had practice enough with his own hands guiding, he lets his brother go and steps back._

"_Now, you try." He orders._

_Loki glances at him, clear uncertainty in his eyes. Thor knows the younger Prince's confidence in his abilities is woefully lacking, doubtless due to the mockery of the other students and the chastisements of Tyr. _

_And so Thor offers him a reassuring smile, nodding his head._

"_It is well, Loki." He promises. "Just do as best you can."_

_He sees Loki swallow visibly, his hands tightening almost white knuckled along the practice swords hilt, before he turns back to the dummy._

_He makes a visible effort to resume the position Thor had so easily guided him into before, and Thor frowns slightly at Loki's awkward and unsure movements, the way he still clearly struggles to maintain the stance. Not for any disappointment in the second Prince, but because he knows how hard Loki is in that very instant being on himself._

"_Do not think so hard on it, brother." Thor instructs, arms crossed over his already broad chest. "Let it come naturally. Let your body tell you when the position is correct."_

_Loki nods stiffly at the advice, eyes locked on the dummy._

_Thor can see already his brother is slightly off-balance and will likely overextend himself and fall if he goes at the dummy as he is._

_He holds his tongue, waiting to see if Loki will realize the error himself and correct it._

_He knows it is more difficult for his little brother. For Loki is small, short in stature and of almost frail build. The practice sword, while light for other children his age, is for Loki a cumbersome weight, thus making the retaining of balance a harder thing to accomplish. Thor does not think any should judge the second Prince too harshly if he has trouble perfecting his stance._

_He sees Loki making adjustments, planting his feet at a better width apart, lowering himself as Thor had shown him to._

_There is a slight tremor working through the young Prince's thin arms, and Thor isn't sure if it's from exhaustion or nervousness, or both._

_His chest rises and falls in deep, steadying breaths._

_Seconds pass in silence, Thor not wanting to push Loki until he himself feels ready._

_And so several seconds more pass, until finally, with a stiffening of his frame, and that's something Thor is going to have to work on with Loki as well, not to give any tells like that away to an opponent, Loki lunges at the dummy, a high pitched yell ripping from his lips with the effort._

_The first blow is fine, the sword positioned correctly as it comes down at an angle against the dummy's left shoulder._

_The second blow is off, as Loki draws his arms back and swings down, more the flat of the blade catching than the edge, and the third is finally when his still overextended balance catches up to him, encouraged by the blunt impact of the second blow, and Loki's feet tangle for a moment before he falls._

_Thor's eyes widen, stepping forward to try and catch his little brother, but it is too late, and Loki hits hard against his knees and hands, the impact causing him to lose grip on the wooden sword, the faux weapon scattering away as Loki's arms collapse under the weight and his forehead smashes against the hard packed dirt._

"_Loki!" Thor cries in alarm as the younger god remains still, and the Crown Prince realizes with dismay that Loki has likely knocked himself unconscious._

_For a moment he thinks stupidly that it is good it happened between only the two of them, instead of in front of a group, as the teasing would have been merciless and cruel._

_But those thoughts last only a moment, before concern takes suffocating hold, and Thor is by Loki's side, on his knees and turning his brother over, gently, onto his back._

_Sure enough, Loki is knocked cold, and Thor reaches for his face, supporting the back of his head in his other hand, smoothing his tangled hair back._

"_Loki?" He asks, fighting to keep the panic in his voice down. "Loki, answer me."_

_He lightly slaps against the younger boy's cheeks, trying to wake him._

_And after a few, torturously long moments, Loki's eyelids begin to flutter, and an instant later, dazed, pale green slits are visible._

_Thor smiles in spite of his nerves, again smoothing Loki's hair back off his face._

_He doesn't hesitate to lean down, kissing the second Prince's forehead in relief._

"_There you are." He says._

_Loki gazes up at him, clear confusion in his eyes._

"_W… what…?" He starts, voice slightly slurred._

"_You took quite the tumble there, brother." Thor smiled softly, keeping his voice as low as he was able._

_Suddenly, Loki seems to realize what's happened, and he flails weakly, trying to shove Thor away._

_For a moment, the elder Prince doesn't understand, and he continues holding on to his brother, frowning._

"_Loki…?"_

_But Loki just keeps struggling, until finally Thor lets him down._

_Immediately, the younger god rolls away, struggling to his hands and knees, crawling a few, short feet before stopping, falling onto his bottom and drawing his knees to his chest, curling in on himself, his back to Thor._

_Thor's frown deepens, and he hesitates a long moment before crawling across the dirt, after his brother._

"_Loki?" He asks as he reaches the second Prince's side, voice thick with worry. _

_Loki's arms curl tight round his knees, face turning away, and Thor understands all at once what's going on._

"_I'm sorry." Loki says in naught more than a whisper, and still the tremor in his voice is clear._

"_Brother…" Thor replies, and he thinks nothing of reaching out then, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder. "What need have you to apologize?"_

_Silence for several seconds, and then Loki says, voice barely audible…_

"_I can do nothing right, can I?"_

"_Oh, Loki…" Thor says, and he wraps an arm the rest of the way round his brother, pulling him tight against him. "You did well. We've only just started on sword fighting technique." He tries to encourage, even as he knows Loki is likely condemning himself._

_His worries confirmed when Loki shakes his head, still refusing to look at the older boy._

"_The others are… are right. I… I won't ever be a true warrior of Asgard. I won't ever…"_

_And his voice trails off, straining, and Thor knows his little brother is fighting back tears._

"_Loki, that isn't true." Thor tries, again pulling him close. "You show fine skills for a beginner. And you're growing still. Someday, I'm certain, you'll be big and strong as any warrior of Asgard."_

_But Loki only again shakes his head, disbelieving._

"_I've been in weapons training for near… nearly half a decade now, and still I show n-no progress." Loki replies, and his voice is thick now, and Thor knows he's close to breaking down._

"_No, Loki. You sell yourself short. What about your throwing knives? You're becoming a good shot with those." Again he tries to encourage, but it has little effect._

"_I'm still not as good as you or… or Hogun, or… or any of the others."_

"_But you will be, brother." Thor says. "Why, if you keep at the discipline as you have been, I wouldn't be surprised to see your skill surpass our own, in time."_

_For a moment, Loki says nothing to that, simply curling further into himself._

"… _Is a cowards weapon, anyhow." He finally whispers._

_Thor sighs._

_It seems at times there is nothing he can say to his younger brother to lift his increasingly lowering spirits._

_If he had known this would happen to Loki, if he's known how it would hurt his little brother to try and fail over and over to be as him and his many friends, he might never have met the day Loki was deemed of an age to train as a warrior with the initial enthusiasm he did._

_Oh, it had been a day of great expectancy and excitement for them both, to finally be allowed to take to the task of honing their warrior's skills together._

_And yet the excitement had been short lived, when that first day of training, Tyr had singled Loki out and pitted him against a boy near twice his size, and Loki's lack of strength and skill was put before all their peers, to laugh at and mock and jeer._

_It had been at first, Thor found himself embarrassed by Loki's weakness, humiliated even to be associated with him before his friends._

_But the first time Thor had found Loki crying over it all, hidden away in his preferred corner of the palace library, when he'd seen how it was his rejection which hurt Loki most of all, he'd realized his own selfish ignorance and cruelty, and he'd made a point since to defend Loki against the taunts of others._

_And yet that too seemed to upset the younger boy, and worsen the harassment, others claiming now Loki was so weak, he needed his elder brother to come to his aid, unable to fight his own battles._

_And at times, Loki would explode in rage upon the Crown Prince, telling him to stop, telling him he was only making things worse now._

_At those times, Thor was at a loss as to what to do._

"_Come, little brother," Thor finally decides, taking Loki under the arms and standing with him, pulling him easily to his feet. "that's enough for today, I think."_

_Loki gives no protest this time, allowing himself to be lifted, letting the elder Prince support him, arm round his shoulders._

"_Let's get you cleaned up then." _

_And Loki lays his head against Thor's muscled shoulder, quiet as they make their way back to the palace._

Thor thinks of Loki as the light from the Bifrost ascends back up from whence it came, and leaves him standing upon the desolate rooftop of some tall building in Midgard, within the city known as New York.

The same place Heimdall always puts him when sending him to the middle realm.

It is for Loki, this time, that Thor is here, not Jane.

Loki, whom Thor has seen naught of in the many months since last they were together. Heard naught of.

For many of those months, Thor has feared the worst. Thought of his little brother in some inescapable peril and torment, alone as always. Always alone, Loki, son of Odin, brother of Thor.

Only his continued cloaking from the sights of the Gatekeeper has left Thor's mind at an ease where the second, abandoned Prince of Asgard is concerned.

And when that cloaking suddenly dropped, for a few, short days, and Heimdall was able to glimpse Loki, held imprisoned and tortured at the hands of the company known as SHIELD, Thor had commanded the Guardian of the Bifrost to send him, if not to retrieve the lost Prince, to see in the least to his well being.

Thor had, in some miracle of will, controlled his rage from that time to now, his utter disdain for those who would claim to be his allies, and yet would set hands upon his very kin.

Landing upon the middle realm, that checked anger hits him full, and his feet have barely grazed the concrete roof before he's off again, Mjolnir held out before him, flying at speed towards SHIELD's local base.

Within minutes, he is there, and he overrides the silly protocols put in place by the organization, ignoring the shouts and threats at gun point lobbed his way as he strides past the entrance and metal detectors.

He cares not if they shoot at him, and none here are brave enough to lay hands upon him to try and block his progress, he knows.

When he barges into Nicholas Fury's office, the Director barely glances up at him, seemingly unfazed, before he returns to reading an open file on his desk.

"That's not proper procedure, Thor." Fury says, voice dry and bored.

It only serves to fuel the god's anger, and he covers the space between them in two, long strides, reaching out and grabbing hold the man by the lapels of his jacket, lifting him into the air as though he weighs nothing.

"Where is my brother!?" Thor demands, tone allowing for nothing but an honest answer.

Fury holds to the thunderer's thick wrists, hanging limply, expression unimpressed as his lip curls in seeming disgust.

"You mean that lunatic madman who tried to take over _our_ planet not all that long ago? That psycho you were supposed to keep safely under lock and key and deal with, so _we _wouldn't have to?" He spits.

Thor's grip tightens on the leather material, face lining in rage, but he says nothing, and Fury goes on.

"Yeah, I thought so." Fury says. "We told you Thor, that bastard sets one foot on Earth again, and we wouldn't hesitate to take action to ensure our safety."

"Where is he?" Thor demands again, voice rumbling within the confines of the small office.

Outside, there is the boom of thunder, and the wind suddenly kicks up, clouds gathering and blocking out the sun.

If Fury is intimidated, he shows no signs of it.

"We had him." The director admits without preamble. "He escaped."

Thor nearly scoffs.

Of _course _Loki escaped.

Much as Thor has grown fond of Midgard and its mortals, still he knows they understand little of the gods, and of the workings of the universe.

They couldn't hope to control a force of chaos as his little brother is.

Their mistake is in trying.

A vicious sort of pride builds in Thor for Loki then. He knows perhaps it is wrong for him to feel it. But the mortals must be made to understand the power of a god, and what it means to try and hold that.

"You tortured him." The god states bluntly, letting the distain and fury seep into his voice without regard.

"Yeah?" Fury hits back without hesitation. "What of it? It's not like the guy can't take it. I'll give one thing to your psycho little brother, Thor. He's tough as fuckin' nails."

"You will refrain from referring to Loki as some manner of mental invalid!" Thor's teeth bare, having had his fill enough already of hearing the Director slander Loki's mental state.

And Fury actually signs, rolling his one good eye skyward.

"Do you mind?" He finally indicate being held up like some rag doll, wishing to be put back down.

Thor glares unhappily at him for several seconds before finally, none too gently, he lets the man fall gracelessly back into his seat.

Massive arms fold over an equally massive chest, and the god waits.

Fury makes a show of straightening out his rumpled cloths a moment, before he matches the thunderer's pose, decidedly less impressive arms folding over his own chest, matching Thor glare for glare.

"He's with your _girlfriend_, if you want to know." He finally says, and he allows himself a slight smirk at the shock which passes unhidden across the thunder god's features.

"Jane Foster?" Thor questions, disbelieving.

"Who else?" Fury shoots back. "We didn't know 'till last night. After your girl showed up with him at a fucking _night club_, of all places. And do you know what that brother you're so protective of _did_?"

He doesn't give Thor the chance to reply before barreling forward.

"Put three goddamned men in the hospital, _one _of which is critical and might not make it!" Fury snaps finally, voice rising in anger.

Thor's brow furrows in confusion.

"Was he provoked?" He asks, and now it's Fury's turn to look bemused.

"Excuse me?" He questions.

"My brother," Thor elaborates. "was he provoked? Did these men attack him?"

The Director frowns deeply.

"… They engaged him, yes, but…"

"Then they should consider themselves lucky to be breathing still." Thor cuts him short, done now with the mortals whining. "Now tell me true, Son of Fury, has Jane come to any harm while in the presence of my brother?"

Fury's mouth hangs open a moment, as though he wants to pull back and address the earlier statement.

But the severe gaze of the thunder god stops him short, and for the first time since this began, the man remembers who it is he's talking to.

"No." He says bluntly, and Thor nods.

"Then I will go to them." He says, beginning to turn.

"They're not at her apartment." Fury says, and Thor turns back, question evident in his eyes.

"We've tracked them to Eric Selvig's place, in Brooklyn. They've been there since last night, and I've sent Agent's Ramanov and Barton there to retrieve them, along with Captain Rogers and Stark. We would've sent Banner along, but he's still in the hospital, recovering from some weird magical blast your brother hit him with. Whatever it was, it knocked the Hulk flat on his ass."

Thor pauses, thinking a moment, before finally, he nods.

"It is unnecessary to send an envoy for his recovery." He informs at last. "Leave my brother to my care."

"You know we can't do th…" Fury begins to protest, and the thunder outside explodes in a boom so loud, the windows in the skyscraper rattle in their frames. Thor's eyes glow an iridescent blue, glowing almost hot white as his hand rests on the hilt of his hammer.

"You will leave him _be_, Director." He says flatly, his tone brokering no argument. "And if you should deign to lay hands on my little brother again, you shall know the full wrath of the God of Thunder. On that, you have my word."

/

**AN: Hey everyone! Sorry for the late posting of this! But again, I just want to thank all of my readers and reviewers, and tell you how much I appreciate all of your feedback!**

**So, Thor's in the house! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and please let me know what you thought!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

It feels like what she imagines getting hit by a Mac truck doing 70 on the freeway must be like, the invisible force which knocks her back, off her feet and into the wall behind. She slams against it with enough force to crack and crumble the plaster, before falling into a limp, unmoving heap to the floor, the breath knocked utterly from her lungs, pain radiating through her frame with such acute intensity, she feels she may vomit.

She isn't even really sure what happened.

One moment, she and Clint and Stark and Rogers were facing off against Loki, telling him to surrender himself, threatening him, if she's being honest with herself, the next, all she remembers is seeing him make a faint gesture with his right hand. Some inexplicable movement of his fingers. And the instant following, there was a wave against her, a push of energy so powerful, she couldn't hope to stand against it, and she'd been taken off the ground and tossed back like a weightless rag doll.

She can't move now.

Her limbs refuse to answer the call of her brain, paralyzed and heavy where they lay, and she wonders detachedly if all her bones are broken.

And then there is the sound of shouting, screaming filling her ears, echoing and buzzing and seemingly at a distance, like she's under water and everything's muffled.

Oh, this isn't good.

This really, _really _isn't good.

/

"Tasha!" Clint cries, eyes widening in horror as he looks back to where she's fallen, unmoving, staring in stilled shock a moment before whipping back around.

And his face twists in hatred.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" He snarls, and in an instant, he has an arrow knocked, pulled taught back below his ear, loosing it.

Loki's own face is a wreckage of anger, shoving Jane behind him as she tries desperately to plead with him to stop.

And as quickly as the archer looses his arrow, the god has a blade in his hand, throwing it with speed at the fast coming projectile, slicing it in half only inches from himself.

He steps forward.

"Loki, please!" Jane cries, but he doesn't seem to hear her, and neither does anyone else, as Clint shoots another arrow, and Loki takes it out the same, stopping it with his own blade mid-flight.

With each arrow he dismisses, he steps closer to the archer, until he is inches from him, and the last shot, he snatches the thing from the air and snaps in two between his fingers.

There is a shift to his right, and the sound of air being sliced by metal, and without taking his eyes from Barton, Loki swings out, batting Captain America's shield away as it comes whirring inches from his head.

The thing clatters to the ground sharply, coming to a dead stop, and then Loki is ripping the archer's bow from his hands, and pushing back against him with a wave of magic, lifting him off his feet as he did the Widow, tossing him back hard against a wall.

There is a heated blast from his left, Iron Man's repulsor's, and Loki sidesteps it easily, missing the beam by seeming millimeters. And as he does so, an arrow forms in his hand, seemingly from nowhere, and he knocks it against the bowstring, pulling it back in perfect, fluid motion, and lets it loose, aimed straight for Rogers' left shoulder.

It hits true, sinking deep within the soldiers flesh, and the Captain cries out in pain, the sound barely leaving his lips before Loki has another arrow loosed, burying in the thigh of Rogers' right leg.

The Captain goes down to his knees, panting heavily, and Loki turns, dropping the bow and catching Stark's mechanical fists in his own hands as the billionaire tries bringing them down upon him.

There is the sound of groaning metal and strained gears as the two struggle for physical control, Loki's teeth bared in hatred, eyes glowing brilliant green, consuming the whites.

"Give it up, Joki." Tony says, voice thick with anger despite his teasing. "We're taking you in."

And fuck, he thinks, this lunatic is _strong_. He's losing ground, even in the suit, as the pressure of the god's fingers increases over his gauntlets, and he can hear the sound of the metal compressing, and then cracking.

The realization is incongruous, Tony thinks, looking at Loki's hands. His fingers are so long and thin and delicate. They look like they would snap with the slightest pressure, and yet he's puncturing through titanium with them like its heated butter.

"I think not, Stark." Loki replies, and his own voice is level and calm, despite the viciousness in those glowing eyes.

He pushes, and Tony is forced to take a step back, his HUD lighting up red as the suits systems start to fail.

He sees Loki smirk, and then Tony's being taken off his feet, lifted into the air and swung around as easily as a 60 pound child might be, thrown with force across the space and into the television set.

He doesn't even have the chance to think to move before a blast of green and gold light envelops him, blasting him back into the wall, and Tony can feel the paneling of the suit begin to fall away from his body, the sound of the pieces tumbling useless to the floor filling his ears.

He has just enough time to scramble back, looking up in horror as the mad god advances on him, green light jumping and flowing over those pale, thin fingers, hands curling and uncurling at his sides. And Tony thinks, for those brief, few seconds…

_I'm gonna die_.

What a way to go for a scientist. Death, by magical, mythological god.

That's just great.

"Loki, STOP!" He sees Jane from his periphery, running towards Loki, hands outreached.

But again, Loki ignores her, and he's feet from the billionaire now, hands lifting, and oh jeeze, this is really it.

Tony lifts his own hands in some useless attempt to block whatever the hell's coming, eyes squeezing shut, cringing backwards.

"LOKI!"

The booming voice cuts through the air, and everything comes to a hold, followed by the rattling of glass in window frames, the very floorboards seeming to shake with the concussive force of it.

Tony knows that voice, and his head snaps towards it, so much relief flooding through his system at the sight, he nearly collapses and sobs like a baby.

Thor stands in the doorway, massive frame taking up the entirety of it, head barely an inch from the top.

Loki is stiff and unmoving, frozen on his spot, still facing the billionaire.

The fire in his hands dies away almost immediately, his head bowing, eyes closed.

"Oh my God, Thor!" Jane cries.

Somewhere off against the wall, Eric and Darcy both slip down in exhausted relief, sliding to the floor.

The rest of the team is stunned into silence where they lay, all in various states of distress.

None of them say anything as Thor steps into the apartment, eyes switching between one god and another in rapid succession, attention rapt and nervous.

Loki makes no move. No acknowledgement even, and Thor's eyes, after moving over his little brother's frame, assessing if any harm has come upon him, eventually moves his gaze to Jane, and then Eric and Darcy.

"Are any of you harmed?" He address them, eyes fixing on Jane.

She shakes her head numbly, along with the other two.

And Thor nods in reply, attention back then on Loki.

"Brother…" he begins, voice strangely soft.

He takes a step closer, and Loki visibly stiffens.

Still, his eyes are closed.

"Have you come to take me back to Asgard?" He asks, voice rough and strangely resigned.

Another step closer, and cautiously, the thunder god reaches out, placing a giant, calloused hand upon his brother's shoulder.

Loki, who stands usually so tall and intimidating, looks incredibly small next to the elder god. Almost like a boy. He is only maybe an inch or two shorter, but he is slight where Thor is like a wall.

"I have come to be with you." Thor says, and Loki, at last, looks up at him, confusion writ clear across his face.

And Thor offers him a fragile smile, almost a paradox against his usually beaming, warm and open features.

"I have missed you brother." He continues.

Loki only looks back, silent. As though he isn't able to process the words.

"Uh, hello! Goldie Locks! Sweet as this long lost reunion is, little bro here just almost _annihilated_ all of us, if you haven't noticed!" Tony's voice cuts through the air, almost whining.

Thor glances at the engineer, frowning deeply.

"It was you who provoked him." He says calmly.

Tony isn't the only one in the room who gapes at the thunderer, a beat of silence passing, before the engineer's mouth falls open, astonishment sharp in his words.

"What the hell! Seriously? Hey, wait a second…" and he begins struggling up to his feet, swaying dangerously for a moment before he's able to balance himself out. "isn't Loki supposed to be in prison up in Asgard still! Or, I don't know, DEAD for killing a fuck load of Earth's citizens!" His voice is rising in heated anger, and without hesitation, Thor steps towards him, blocking his path towards Loki, massive arms folding over his massive chest.

As if Loki would need protecting from Iron Man, Jane thinks, the tension in her frame coiling harder at the potential confrontation.

It was bad enough having Loki fighting against a group of superhero's just moments before, more or less handing them their asses.

The last thing they need is two pissed off gods tearing the whole fucking block apart!

"My brother served his sentence for his crimes." Thor informs Stark flatly.

"What! He spends a year and a half in jail, and suddenly everything's kosher!? Forgive me, but I don't think…"

"He was vital is preventing the very destruction of the entirety of the Nine Realms as we know it." Thor cuts him short. "If not for Loki's assistance in defeating Malekith and his army of Dark Elves, the World Tree would likely have been wiped from existence, and reality as you know it would have been torn asunder. My brother has more than earned his freedom, and his life."

"I'm sorry, what?"

That's Clint, who's at Natasha's side, helping her to sit up.

And Thor sighs.

"It is complicated." He goes on. "A tale perhaps for another time. Until which time, I would ask you to leave Loki in peace."

"Your brother's unstable Thor. He almost killed three people last night." Steve finally speaks up from across the space, being assisted by Eric. His voice is straining, thick with pain. "And we've got orders to bring him in."

"I told you that wasn't his fault!" Jane finally speaks up. "If you'd have just listened before attacking him! I tried to explain! They were bullying him, and…"

"Look!" Tony talks over her. "I don't know what the hell any of you are talking about, but the point remains, Loki is dangerous, he's a war criminal, he tried to take OVER our planet, and we don't want him here! Alright! Caps right, we've got orders to bring him in, and that's what we're going to do if…"

"You have no such orders any longer." Thor disrupts now. "Your Director has been made aware of the changed circumstances. I understand your displeasure at my brother's presence, Tony Stark, but you must understand…"

"ENOUGH!"

All eyes snap, wide, towards the mischief god, standing at the center of everyone's heated arguing, body taught with near unchecked rage and frustration, hands curling and uncurling at his sides, ominous green and gold sparking between long, white fingers.

No one says anything.

"I will not be _argued _over as some child without say!" Loki spits, voice thick with disgust. "As though I am not, here, present! I need not the protection of any. I need not defending!" And here his eyes cut to Thor, blazing and clear. "Nor will I heed to the declarations and wants of this petty group of mortal would be warriors!" He glares across the space in turn to each of the Avengers.

A moment passes in stunned silence.

And then Loki turns, saying as he does…

"But worry yourselves not, little men. For I no longer wish to remain on this pathetic dirt pit of a Realm, and will be gone from here on the morrow. Now leave me be, all of you."

And with that, he strides away, disappearing around a corner.

There is the sound of a door being slammed shut, and for a long, few seconds, nobody does or says anything.

And then Tony's voice cuts through the tension, glib and carefree as ever.

"You guys really need to work on that Shakespeare thing."

Jane sighs.

Darcy laughs.

Thor glares, and the thunder outside rumbles.

/

It is Jane who convinces Thor to go to Loki, after explaining everything to him that's occurred over the last, several days.

To Jane's surprise, and relief, the thunder god had taken it all in seeming stride, only inquiring as to hers, Darcy's and Eric's well being, and apparently unsurprised himself to find that Loki had done nothing to harm any of them.

He had been more concerned over Loki's well being, even distracted by thoughts of Loki being in some way distressed.

Jane had told him everything she herself had observed of the trickster. That more or less, he seemed in good health to her, beyond being too thin and the initial state she'd found him in that day, while still in the custody of SHIELD.

But she'd been honest with Thor as well, explaining to him that she thought Loki was, if not physically fragile, then mentally, perhaps he wasn't doing all that great.

Thor had thanked her for her honesty, and after the Avengers had finally been convinced to leave, perhaps an hour after both Steve and Natasha had been carted off by paramedics to the nearest hospital, Thor decided to take Jane up on her advice to seek Loki out.

The mischief god had yet to emerge from where he'd locked himself in the bathroom.

And now Thor finds himself standing before the closed door, listening intently for any sounds which might offer him an idea of what his little brother is doing in the secluded room beyond.

He hesitates momentarily to knock.

He can hear nothing, and for a brief instant, a lance of fear spikes through him, horrible images of Loki lying, hurt, on the floor.

Thor isn't sure what causes those sorts of thoughts to enter his mind.

While Loki had been ill often as a child, he had never been prone to reckless behavior or bouts of self-harm.

But then, Thor remembers, Loki, hanging by only his pale, thin fingers, gripping to the end of a staff, looking up past him, to their Father, such desperation in his tear filled eyes.

He remembers the hopelessness…

The crushing resignation…

He remembers Loki letting go.

He remembers…

And suddenly his fist is raised, and he's knocking as gently as his worried state allows against the flimsy wood paneling, calling out his brother's name.

"Loki?"

For several seconds, there comes no answer, and Thor calls his name louder, more urgently.

"Loki?"

"Go away Thor." He finally hears Loki's voice drift through, though the sound of it is muffled and weak. "I thought I asked you to leave me be."

"Loki, I am worried for you." Thor says back, leaning his forehead against the door. "Will you not let me in?"

Again, he is met only by silence.

"Will you be very angry if I come in?" Thor tries instead.

And again, silence.

Thor's lips pull in a pensive line, for a moment, unsure.

Until finally, concern wins out, and he reaches for the doors handle, turning it carefully and pushing in.

For a moment, all he sees is white tile and too bright light, harsh and glaring against it, the rooms acoustics, strange and heavy against his ears.

His eyes scan over the space, and then finally, they settle upon the form of his brother, sat along the edge of what Thor assumes is a bathing tub.

It takes him a moment longer still to fully grasp what he is seeing.

Loki is pale and gaunt where he sits, skin near white as the walls and floor of the small room.

He is stripped to the waist, naked torso sweat slicked, feet bare, and his hands grip over the lip of the edge, white knuckled and arms shaking.

The whole of his chest is covered in deep, ugly bruising, purple and blue and angry red, lacerations and burns across the tight skin of his abdomen, twisted and wrecked.

A shocked gasp catches in Thor's throat at the sight, anger and fear and heartbreak blooming at once in his chest.

And memory comes back to him, unbidden.

The way some things, no matter how far they've gone, or how long they've lived, never change.

"_Loki, I do not understand this sudden shyness!" Thor laughs, watching his little brother as he sits at the base of the bathing tub, arms crossed protectively over his small chest, face turned away._

_For the last ten minutes, the elder Prince has been trying, unsuccessfully, to get Loki to remove his clothing so that he can bathe, and wash away the day's exertions._

_It would do his brother well, Thor knows. After spending all the morning and much of the afternoon training and teaching Loki in the training rings._

_Loki had been exhausted near to his absolute limits by the end, and Thor had practically had to carry him back to the palace._

_It would do the younger boy's muscles good to soak for a bit, but thus far, he's refused to strip, and Thor finds himself confused._

_Sore as he knows his little brother is, the young thunder god had thought to help Loki wash, as he's done many times in the past. Never before has the second Prince been shy about undressing in front of his elder sibling. They're close, as they've ever been. There are few things not shared or known between them._

_But now Loki's arms just seem to fold tighter over himself, his face turning away as he shakes his head._

"_Loki," Thor presses, feeling somewhat concerned now. "I didn't hurt you in the ring, did I?"_

_Another shake of the head, and Loki's soft voice saying "No."_

_Thor frowns, brow furrowing as he tries to puzzle out what's troubling his brother._

"_Then what is it?" He asks. _

_When Loki doesn't answer, Thor steps nearer and crouches down, trying to catch the smaller boy's eye._

"_Loki," he tries again softly. He reaches out, running an already large hand across Loki's small forehead, brushing his mussed hair back. "you're worrying me, little brother. Please, tell me what troubles you."_

_Sometimes, Loki's diminutive size strikes Thor starkly, and now is one of those times. Loki seems so fragile to him in these moments, and the thunder god wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around the small boy and protect him from all the Nine Realms._

"_It's nothing." Loki says, and his voice, if possible, sounds even smaller. _

_And Thor shakes his head._

_He may not be as clever as the younger Prince, and he knows it. But nor is he dull witted as some might believe, and he knows now Loki is keeping something from him._

"_A bath will make you feel better." He tries comfortingly, and he takes gentle hold of Loki's left arm, massaging the thin limb gently through the sleeve of his tunic. _

"_I know." Loki says, and he still won't look at Thor._

"_Do you want me to go then?" Thor asks finally._

_A moment passes without response, and Thor can feel Loki trembling slightly, his concern growing exponentially then._

_Loki shakes his head finally, still turned away._

"_Loki, you are scaring me now." Thor finally admits, taking both of the small boy's shoulders in his hands. "Look at me, tell me what is wrong."_

_But Loki won't lift his face, and his voice shakes as he says…_

"_It is only… only that I do not w-wish you to see."_

"_See?" Thor questions, confused for a moment. "See what? Loki, what are you speaking of?"_

_Another shake of the head, and the Crown Prince sees him swallow thickly._

"_Loki!"_

_But the younger boy only continues shaking his head no, and at last, Thor has had enough._

_He reaches out, pulling Loki's arms away from him with disconcerting ease, and in the next instant, he is lifting the second Prince's tunic up._

_His eyes go wide in alarm, and he barely manages to stifle a curse at what he sees._

Thor strides forward, farther into the washroom, staring, dismayed and alarmed at the sight of his little brother's beaten form.

For an instant, the thunderer feels dizzy.

"Loki, what…" he starts. "what has happened? Your injuries…"

Loki lifts his face, glaring at the elder god with a sneer, eyes sharp and cold.

"Oh, does this _concern _you then, brother?" He asks, voice dripping with caustic sarcasm.

And in an instant, he is up, moving away from Thor, arms folding over his chest as he turns his back to the Crown Prince, and there too, the expanse is marred is vicious contusions and ruined skin, spread over the sharp shoulder blades and down, dipping below the waistband of his loose breeches.

"How very endearing," he goes on lowly, angry. "first you deign to rescue me from your brothers in arms. Your new found _companions_. And now you assume a tone of disbelieving horror at the state their charming associates have left me in. How entirely _charming_ you are Thor. How valiant."

Thor's face lines in pain.

"Loki, please…" he reaches out, wanting to pull his brother to him. Wanting to take him into an embrace, like he used to when they were young. "I didn't…

"You didn't know?" Loki asks, finally turning and facing him. A bitter laugh erupts from the trickster god's lips, before abruptly cutting off, and he shakes his head. "Oh, of course not. Good, _kind_, _righteous_ Thor, never able to conceive of less than honorable comportment in others."

"Loki…"

"No." Again, the younger god interrupts. "Do not trouble yourself, brother. Far be it from me to shatter your comforting delusions as to the virtuous natures of your pet mortals. Forget the sight of me. I will, as ever I have, handle my own affairs, and burden you, and your Lady, no longer."

And Thor's hand falls, limp at his side.

There is some heavy ache in his chest, like a great pressure against his ribs, threatening to crack and break them. Breath comes uneasy, and he wishes he knew how to push it away.

How to fix this.

But he's never known, he realizes.

He's never known how to make things right with his little brother.

_There is bruising. Ugly and deep, marring the pale flesh of Loki's entire right side, spreading in blotches to his left. Impressions of fingers, grabbing and holding and twisting and hurting._

_For a moment, Thor feels sick._

_He stares, bemused, mouth hung open._

_And then, for an instant, his eyes raise to meet Loki's own, bright and shining with pooling tears, before suddenly the younger boy twists away, pulling his tunic to cover his small torso again, turning his face away._

_And Thor finds his voice once more._

"_Loki…" he breaths, voice hushed in abrupt and acute terror._

"_Loki!" He grabs the second Prince's shoulders, turning him back. "Who did this to you? You must tell me!"_

"_Nobody." Loki says, his voice chocked and wavering and barely heard, and Thor knows he's trying so hard not to cry._

_Trying so hard to be brave, and Thor can't help but feel proud of his little brother in that moment, despite his growing horror._

"_Loki, please." Thor entreats._

_But Loki only turns away further, eyes squeezed shut tight as he shakes his head._

"_I… I'm alright Thor. I swear to you, I'm… everything is alright. I can handle my… my own affairs. I can be a brave warrior, like you. I promise."_

"_Oh, Loki…" Thor says. And he thinks not twice as he reaches out and pulls Loki against him, arms wrapped tight round his tiny frame._

_He kisses the crown of his head, lips meeting mussed black tresses, and he feels a shutter work through Loki's frame, a moment later, the warmth of the younger god's tears, as they soak through his tunic, against his chest._

_And Thor only holds him tighter, shushing him gently and rocking him as a mother would her child…_

"Why… why have you not healed?" Thor asks, knowing not what else to say, the wrongness of Loki's still wounded state suddenly striking him.

Was it not several days ago that SHIELD had hold of him?

He should have been healed by now.

Loki sighs, the sound one of utter exhaustion, and Thor watches as the younger god lowers himself stiffly to the top of a bowl shaped porcelain seat.

He rests his face in his hands for several, long seconds, before roughly he shoves them back through his black hair, pushing it from his face.

His features are drawn, cheeks gaunt, and Thor thinks he looks older than he should.

Until, finally, the second Prince of Asgard leans back, head thunking audibly against the wall behind, eyes closed.

"I am tired Thor." Loki finally speaks, and his voice only proves his statement. "So very tired."

Thor waits, unsure of what to say. If he should say anything at all.

All of the venom is gone from his brother's tone now. All of the anger. Only that same resignation of before.

It sounds so wrong in his brother's eloquent, soft voice.

"My magic is depleted." At last, Loki says, leaning his head from the wall, his eyes coming open and staring blearily at the thunder god. "I have used more of what little reserves I have left these past, few days. And already before that, it was rendered dangerously, laughably low."

His head falls back again, lids slipping shut.

Thor watches him, concern tightening, growing to dread in his gut.

Loki's chest rises and falls unevenly and shallow, and he looks so, so frail, ribs pressing stark and visible against pale skin which looks thin as paper.

Thor knows something of his brother's magic.

Knows it is, to him, a vital thing.

Not something gifted to him or lent, but something innate in his blood and bones and very life energy.

The greater of his magical energy he expends, the greater the risk to his health.

He recalls how, often, his little brother, as a very small child, would make himself sick, not knowing his own limits.

How a few times, he came dangerously close to death through means of his own doing.

It is one of the many ways in which Loki always differed so from the other Aesir.

Where all the rest of them would heal quickly by credit to their own physiology, Loki's immunity to illness and injury relied near entirely on his magic.

Without it strong and aplenty, he would decline, and quickly.

Always had it been so.

Always was it explained as the reason for his constant sickliness as a boy.

Though none could ever say or determine or predict why or how Loki's magic would, at times, seem to flee him and grow to frighteningly low reserves.

It would happen, most often, for no apparent reason at all, without Loki's having expended it himself even.

And none knew how to coax his reserves higher. Only able to pray to the elder gods that it come back to the boy. And always, thank the Norns, it somehow had.

Thor steps forward now, trepidation and anxiety increasing as he grasps fully Loki's admission.

"Brother," he begins quietly. "you have made yourself ill?"

A slow smile spreads across the trickster's thin lips then, eyes still closed as he hums low in his throat.

"Ah," he says without moving. "or perhaps one might suggest I've been made ill by those unwilling to let me rest my bones."

Thor frowns at the implication.

"I am so very tired…" Loki repeats, sounding more as though he speaks to himself than his elder brother. "I desire only to be left to myself. Oh, to let this old god rest…"

There is defeat in Loki's voice.

Thor has never heard his brother sound this way, and it frightens him viciously.

"Loki…" he takes another step forward, standing only a few, short feet from him now. "how ill are you?"

Again, that same, wry smile spreads across the mischief god's lips, his head lolling from side to side for a moment.

"You wonder if I shall die?" He asks after a moment, and finally, his eyes slit open, and he lifts his head to gaze at the thunderer.

Thor's frown deepens.

"Do not jest, brother." He says.

And Loki replies, "I do not."

"_Loki_…"

And Loki sighs in exasperation, once more letting his head fall back against the wall.

"I know not." He finally says. "I feel unwell."

The admission alone, casually as Loki says it, is enough to tell Thor that it is serious, and he feels his heart thunder sickeningly in his chest.

He swallows against the sudden dryness in his mouth and throat.

"How long?" He asks. "How long have you felt this way?"

Loki shrugs noncommittally.

"Some months." He says, sounding bored.

"And it has grown more sever?" Thor presses.

Another shrug.

"Aye, I suppose."

"Then you must return with me to Asgard, where you can receive proper healing." Thor says then without hesitation.

Loki laughs, the sound dry and unimpressed.

"Ohh, hoho." He chuckles. "Truly?" And he leans his head forward again to stare at the thunderer.

Thor says nothing, only stares sternly back.

And Loki frowns then.

"And why?" He asks. "So they may speed along my declining state? Hasten my death to bring about sooner the celebrations to be thrown in honor of my demise?"

"Loki, that will not…"

"Oh, spare me your sentiments Thor." Loki cuts him short. "I can bear to stand them not a moment longer. The validity of my words in question or not, you know well as I there is nothing they can do for me. Only rest may repair the damage, relying of course on it not having sunk its claws yet too deeply." He smiles crookedly, and there is a flash of the madness which has so lately taken hold Loki's sharp mind, bright in his eyes.

Thor's fists clench, frame tense with too many emotions.

"Loki," he says. "I will not have you die if there is something to be done for it."

Loki's lids droop, until he stares back with eyes half closed.

"… Something to be done…" he whispers back, seemingly to no one.

"Loki."

"… Please Thor." The younger god breaths, and suddenly he's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging down.

He looks like he can barely hold himself upright, and Thor has to reign in the desire to suddenly go and take Loki up in his arms and carry him to bed.

"just leave me alone." He says.

Yet Thor waits.

Thinking… hoping, somehow, that Loki will let down this wall and accept his help. Hoping, somehow, that Loki will even ask for it, as he did when they were boys.

But Loki says nothing more. Only sits there, and Thor can think of nothing to say in return.

Can think of no way to make this right.

No way to help.

And so he only stands there, watching his little brother, battered and bruised, holding himself so strong. Holding himself separate and proud and broken. And he thinks of how very much has changed between them. How very much Loki is not the same.

And how very much, it seems, everything is ever as it was.

/

**AN: As usual, a huge thank you to all my readers and reviewers! I hope you're continuing to enjoy the story!**

**So, apparently, Loki's been holding out on us regarding his health. Isn't that just like him? Pride goeth before the fall and all that. **

**Let me know what you thought of the chapter and again, thank you for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

Loki is drifting.

Vaguely aware, like the in between of wakefulness and sleep, or those times he's gotten himself drunk on magic.

He feels both light and heavy, and very, very warm. Not unpleasantly so, like those summers on Asgard when he thought for certain he would die from the heat. And many times, very nearly did.

More like the warmth of swaddled blankets about him. Like coaxing quiet and soft touches.

He is limp, and pliant, and he doesn't know when he fell into such a state. Only that now, he wishes to remain here, and feels no pressing need to escape, even as he becomes distantly aware of that strange, disarming warmth wrapping tighter around him, and there is the familiar… so, so familiar sent of ozone and electricity. Fresh rain.

Loki thinks to move closer to it, even as it presses him in, and he tries with weakened and sluggish limbs to curl round it and draw it nearer.

Rest, he thinks. Rest, and warmth, and safety.

Safety…

Kind, warm and soft.

There is a sound, he thinks.

A quiet exhale of breath, pushed between teeth.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh…"

And then against his face, he feels the brush of some rough fabric. Woolen and itchy, and he presses back against it, burying his face to it.

Hands reach up, like instinct, wanting to bury his fingers into that material and cling, like a child.

He feels like a child.

Again comes that sound, breath between teeth, as his strength seems to fail him, and his hands fall limp and curled against something solid and sure.

And he gives no struggle as there is a weight against the back of his head, holding his face to the rough material, and the press of warm softness against his temple.

Loki drifts, and he succumbs, and he feels safe here, in the hold of this warmth.

He wants it.

He wants…

He wishes he could be here forever, and forget loneliness.

/

"Is… is he alright?" Jane asks quietly, worriedly as she stands in the doorway of the guest room, peering in, past Thor's broad shoulders as he lays the still form of Loki upon the bed.

She thinks she's never seen the thunder god be so gentle. He handles his brother like a porcelain brooch, easing his limp head back onto the pillow, taking slow and deliberate care to lay his legs out straight before pulling his arms from beneath him, and arranging the younger god's own just so at his sides.

Loki is shirtless, and Jane had gasped in both shock and horror when Thor had first emerged from the bathroom, carrying him, his face set in a mask of grim determination.

She'd had no idea.

None at all.

At first, she'd wondered if it had somehow happened during the encounter with the Avengers. The deep, sickening mass of bruising and blistering across the entirety of the god's torso, discoloring entirely the pale expanse of his skin.

But she could recall no moment when the team of heroes had landed even a single blow against Loki.

And she'd realized, with slowly spreading horror, that it could only have been some severe and prolonged beating to result in such awful injury.

She'd realized it must have been within the custody of SHIELD it was done to him.

And then she'd thought of Eric, cracking a baseball bat across Loki's temple. Thought of the wood splitting and splintering out as though it had been cracked against a brick wall. And she'd wondered then, oh God, what must they have done to him, how must they have _hit_ him to hurt him so?

She recalls then Loki over the last, few days. How at times he would move stiffly, and more slowly, as though in pain.

And she hadn't _realized_…

Because the bruises on his face had been healed, and she'd thought… shouldn't all of him have been by now? Shouldn't he have healed?

Thor is pushing sweat soaked locks back from Loki's face, frowning deeply, before Jane sees him shake his head.

"Nay." He answers, deep voice resonating throughout the room, though he keeps it hushed.

He lays the back of one hand across his younger brother's forehead, and his frown deepens.

"What happened?" Jane asks softly, moving into the room a few feet.

A moment passes before Thor answers.

"He fell unconscious in the washroom." He says. "I believe he exhausted himself speaking with me."

"Just from talking to you?" Jane presses, alarmed.

And again, Thor nods, moving his hand across Loki's forehead.

"He is running a slight fever." He says, and his tone is grave.

Jane feels confused.

"But it's not bad, right?"

She hears a shuffled of feet behind her, and glances back, seeing Eric, standing within the frame of the doorway, looking wary.

She turns back to Thor, watching him begin to pull the bed's blanket up around his brother, up to just below his chest.

"Loki has ever been susceptible to fever." He says. "This is for him very dangerous."

Jane's eyes widen, sudden dread taking sharp hold of her heart. Vaguely, she's aware of Eric stepping into the room.

"Dangerous?" She breathes, as Eric comes to stand beside her, hands folded at his back.

Thor is crouching beside the bed now, hand resting palm down on Loki's forehead.

Loki hasn't moved at all it seems, but his breathing seems somewhat labored. Nothing overly pronounced, but noticeable.

His skin is slick with sweat though, Jane can see, and she feels the knot forming in her stomach tighten.

"What do we do?" She finally manages, voice slightly trembling.

She's scared, she realizes.

She'd had no idea Loki was even sick, and she finds herself too overcome by the thought of it to even think to ask why, or _how_.

He hadn't _said _anything. He hadn't shown…

A sudden wave of guilt comes up at once, ripping into her.

She should have _known_, she thinks. She should have been paying closer attention.

"He must rest." Thor says, stirring her from her thoughts. "His magic has been badly depleted. He cannot heal without it."

"Is he…" Jane pauses, the words going stale in her mouth. "he's not going to, oh God, I mean…"

Thor finally turns to look at her, his hand moving down to Loki's shoulder.

"He is strong." The thunder god says, voice even and calm and deep. "He will be fine."

Jane swallows, her heart beating quicker in her chest.

"Why… why didn't he say anything?" She stammers out. "He didn't…"

And the expression across Thor's face is one of such sudden, acute sadness, it breaks Jane's heart just to look at it.

"Loki has ever been one to suffer in silence Jane." He says softly. "It is not your fault. He did not want you to know, and so you didn't know."

"Should we, I don't know, call a doctor maybe?" Eric finally speaks, and Jane turns to him, shocked. He's looking at Loki, both a kind of reserved interest and anxiousness in his eyes.

Again, Thor shakes his head.

"Nay." He repeats. "Loki's magic must be allowed time to build. He is different from myself in this. Of a more naturally fragile constitution. His ability to recover from injury and illness is linked to his seidr. Brought low as it is, and… it is like… you mortals rely on… what is the term? Blood cells?"

"White blood cells?" Jane supplies.

And Thor nods.

"Yes. Loki's magic is as that. It protects him from sickness. But there is a limit to it, and should he push those limits, should he expend too much of that energy, he becomes susceptible to illness, and his body will take near long as any mortals to recover from injury."

He turns back to his brother then, lying still and silent. He reaches back over, placing the back of his hand against Loki's flushed cheek.

"My brother has been traveling the branches of the Tree for many months now, and I suspect he has encountered unkind others along the way. I fear he has been given little chance to rest at all, and expended much his magic to ensure his survival. He needs to rest. And we need to bring his fever down, before it takes stronger hold."

"Right." Jane nods, feeling numb and suddenly, painfully useless. Her brain is trying rapidly to come up with ways to bring down fever, but it's like her thoughts have hit some sort of brick wall, and she can't get past it.

"If one of you will perhaps bring me a cloth, and a bowl of chilled water?" Thor supplies, and that's all Jane needs.

"Right." She repeats, and suddenly she's out the door, going to fetch what the thunder god had requested.

Eric continues to stand there, watching silently as Thor tends to his unconscious brother, continuing to brush thick fingers through damp, black hair, his other hand placed flat upon the younger god's unevenly rising and falling chest.

"You love him, don't you?" The physicist suddenly asks, and Thor's fingers still their motion.

A moment passes in silence, heavy and thick.

And then Eric sees him nod.

"Aye." He says, and his voice sounds too quiet. "With all my heart."

Eric's lips purse, hands folding tighter together.

"Even after all he's done?" He presses, and Thor bows his head, bringing it to rest nearly upon Loki's shoulder.

Another, long few seconds pass without reply.

And then Thor says…

"I know my brother has wronged you gravely, Eric Selvig." Another pause. "And for that, I am truly sorry."

Thor lifts his head then, finally turning and looking back at the old man.

"But you must understand, Loki is my brother. My little brother. We have been together for many thousands of years. And only in the most recent of those has he ever been anything less than utterly loyal to me. Only in the most recent has he committed such vile acts. He was…" Thor swallows visibly, his voice suddenly strained. "he was not always as he is. He was once, and for so long, the kindest soul I ever have known. Along with our Mother. He was…"

He turns back then, looking down at Loki, reaching out and taking his limp, thin hand in his own giant, calloused one.

"He was always such a learned, scholarly man. A peaceful man, even, though he never failed to fight by my side and guard my back from enemies. He was only ever vicious when the need would arise. When battle called for such. But in the usual, he would… he was always so quiet. So reserved. He would shy from conflict, or confrontation. He was mischievous, yes, and liked to play pranks on all of us. But they were only ever good in nature. Harmless. Moments to make us laugh."

Thor's voice trails off slightly, sounding melancholy and distant.

"He disliked even sparring with me and my comrades, preferring the quiet of the library, and the companionship of books. Violence was never in Loki's blood, as it was in mine, or my friends."

Eric sees the thunderer shake his head in seeming dismay.

"That is why when this… this madness took him, I could not understand. It was all so unlike him. So…" He exhales heavily. "wrong." He finishes.

And then he's turning back to Eric, looking at him with such intent seriousness.

"My brother was a good man, Eric Selvig. The best I have ever known. He was always good to me. And I, in turn, was not always as good to him as he deserved." His hand tightens around Loki's fragile feeling fingers, his eyes closing in painful memories. "I must believe that the boy I grew up with, the man who stood by my side through all my ill-begotten quests and bloodied battles, the man who would lay his life down for me at an instants notice… I must believe he still exists. I do not expect you to understand. How could you, when all you have ever known of Loki is cruelty and manipulation? But it is not all there is to him. Even if others know it not, I do. I cannot forget that."

Eric stares back then at the thunder god, silently studying him, as though searching for the truth in his words.

Until, finally, the old man gives a vague nod.

And Thor smiles weakly at him, nodding back in quiet gratitude for his understanding.

It's just then that Jane returns, Darcy in tow behind her, carrying a bowl of water, Jane with a bundle of cloths in one hand, and an ice pack in the other.

"I brought an ice pack too, just in case." Jane says as she comes up beside the bed and begins setting the supplies down on the nightstand. Darcy follows suit, carefully placing the bowl of cold water beside the cloths. The younger girl's eyes go wide upon seeing Loki's ravaged body, but for once, she stays silent.

Thor grins at them both, nodding.

"Thank you." He says. "That will help."

The two women stand back then, watching as Thor takes up one of the rags and dips it into the bowl, ringing it out before folding it up, beginning gently to pad it along Loki's forehead, and against his cheeks and neck.

He dips the cloth again, and repeats the action, this time along Loki's torso, being even more gentle as he lifts the smaller god's arms, pressing the damp cloth into his armpits, first the left, then the right.

A quiet groan slips past Loki's lips then, pained sounding, a deep line forming between his brows.

And Jane looks away.

She feels suddenly like she's invading on something she has no right to.

Something private between two brothers who have lived and known each other for longer than can even be properly conceived.

Loki wouldn't want this, Jane thinks.

He wouldn't want to be seen like this.

And so she turns to Darcy, touching the younger girl's shoulder gently, and nodding towards Eric.

"We should go." She says quietly.

The other two look at her for a moment, hesitating, before finally it's Eric who nods in return, and turns wordlessly to step from the room.

"I'll be out with you in just a minute." Jane tells Darcy, and Darcy nods.

"Okay." She says, before exiting as well.

Jane turns back to Thor, stepping near him and placing a hand upon his solid shoulder.

"If you need anything…" she begins. "or Loki does…"

Thor looks up at her, smiling softly.

He reaches up, placing his own hand over hers, encompassing it entirely.

"I will call for your aid should either of us require it." He says, voice just barely more than a whisper. "And Jane,"

She looks down at him expectantly.

"thank you," he says. "for caring for my brother these past several days. I cannot put to words the gratitude I feel towards you for this favor."

Jane smiles weakly, her eyes turning down, shrugging.

"It's okay." She says.

"Few would have shown the kindness towards Loki that you have, Jane." Thor says seriously.

And Jane glances back up at him.

A moment passes in silence.

"He's… he's not a bad person." She finally manages, feeling immediately like it was about the dumbest thing she could have said.

But Thor only smiles warmly.

"I am heartened, to hear you say that." He says. "I know Loki would too be heartened."

And Jane looks away again, her hand squeezing gently beneath his.

"I know." She says softly.

/

Sensation comes back to him slowly.

Awareness.

Softness at his back, against his cheek, and he thinks bemusedly… "_bed_".

It has been long since he has slept upon such, is his next thought.

And then comes the heat.

Oh, he is _too_ hot, and it _hurts_.

Suffocating, and he struggles against it, shifting, trying to move.

But his limbs feel immovable as Mjolnir, the lids of his eyes the same, and he manages only to toss his head, an inadvertent gasp slipping past his lips.

And then there is a soft pressure against his shoulders, hands, he realizes after a moment, rough and calloused and _strong_. He fights against it for a panicked instant, a sharp blade of terror ripping through him, before he's forced easily back down, and one of those hands moves to his head, thick fingers brushing through his hair.

"Shhhh, shhh…" he hears. "It is well, brother. It is well."

Brother…?

The word registers before the voice, and when finally the latter comes to him, for a moment, the fear dissipates, and his replaced by safety and sureness and everything's alright. For a moment, he allows himself to sink into it. For a moment, he wants to stay here and protected forever.

And then he remembers.

And he forces his eyes open, lids still heavy and slow to lift.

It takes several seconds for his vision to clear, the looming, large silhouette filling his line of sight before coming into focus, and he sees the concerned, handsome face of Thor, directly above him.

And then Thor smiles at him, faintly.

"Welcome back." He says.

Loki blinks, and then he's lifting a hand, pressing it weakly against Thor's thick shoulder and trying, unsuccessfully, to shove him back.

"Thor…" he says, and his voice is a groggy scratch. "… sit not so close to me, you oafish buffoon."

To Loki's surprise, Thor actually leans back, his smile widening, a hearty chuckle escaping his lips.

"It seems you are well on the road to recovery already." He says.

Loki doesn't return the amusement, face blank before he turns it away, letting his lids slip back shut and for a moment, pressing his cheek against the pillow beneath him.

As the sleep clears from his system, the weight of his condition begins weighing upon him, and he's suddenly all too aware of the pain he's in. He feels utterly exhausted still, despite having, apparently, been unconscious, and he wishes now he could simply go back to it.

"Brother?" He hears Thor ask, voice thick with worry suddenly.

Loki lifts an arm, letting it fall across his face.

"It is too warm in here." He complains weakly.

"You are running a slight fever." Thor informs him gravely.

"Loki chuckles dryly at that.

"Oh, of course." He says, unsurprised.

He remains unmoving for several, long moments, arm still slung across his face

And then he lets it fall back to his side, beginning to attempt to sit up, struggling and trembling, and he grunts with the effort, frustrated.

"Loki, you should not…" Thor begins, moving towards him to press him back down.

Loki snarls.

"I am _fine_ Thor!" He snaps, trying to turn away from the elder god's attempts.

The motion throws his balance, and he cants sideways, falling back to his side.

A low growl of frustration bubbles up his throat, and he buries his face against the sheets.

When did he grow so weak?

He must have been more ill than he'd allowed himself to realize, culminating in his present state.

"Loki, you should stay lying down." Thor says softly. "You are yet unwell."

"I wish to sit up." Loki says in return, and his own voice sounds petulant and whiny to him, like a child's, and he frowns at it, a sudden flare of anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach at Thor's seeming unintentional ability to make him feel and behave as such.

It has ever been this way, he thinks.

He has ever felt small and lesser beside the perfection of his older brother.

Thor sighs, sounding exasperated, doing nothing to quell Loki's sudden insecurity.

"Well if you insist on such foolishness, the least you can allow me is to help you."

And he reaches down, wrapping a muscular arm round Loki's shoulders, picking him up with ease, rearranging the pillows along the headboard with his free hand, and settling the mischief god back against them.

Loki glances about the room, arms limp at his sides.

He doesn't look at Thor.

"How did we end up here?" He asks quietly. "I do not remember…"

Thor seats himself at the foot of the bed, watching his little brother closely.

"You fell unconscious, while in the washroom." He explains slowly. "You nearly slipped from your seat to the floor before I caught you. You have been out for some hours now."

Thor can see Loki tense at the revelation.

It is no surprise.

Loki has ever detested the thought of being left vulnerable and defenseless.

"Where is your Lady?" He asks, still keeping his eyes away.

"She is out in this dwellings foyer." Thor offers. "Along with the Lady Darcy and Eric Selvig. I believe they are entertaining themselves with the box with the moving pictures."

Loki gives a single nod to this, and then falls silent.

He picks absently at the material of the blanket, covering his legs.

He is too pale, Thor thinks, even for his usually fair color, and still his skin glistens with sweat.

Reaching for the ice pack, which Jane had replaced for him some fifteen minutes earlier after the first had finally melted, Thor holds it out to Loki.

"Here," he says softly. "you should put this to use."

Loki glances up at the offered item, confusion plain across his features.

"'Tiss a pack of ice." Thor explains. "It is well for you."

Loki's eyes lift to him, and for a moment, there is a flash of anger mixed with pain in his eyes, so plainly, it startles Thor, to see such clear emotions in his brother, who's face is so usually an unreadable mask.

It reminds Thor of when they were children, and Loki was so openly sensitive, so outwardly emotional, and the other children would laugh at him for it…

"Do you mock me Thor?" Loki finally hisses between clenched teeth, and for a moment, Thor doesn't understand, thrown off by the question and the hostility of his brother's tone.

And then he remembers, and his heart sinks, his hand falling away.

He shakes his head.

"Nay, brother." He says. "I meant no offense. Please. I wish only for your fever not to take stronger hold of you. You are so…" he hesitates, glancing away. "you are so susceptible to fevers." He finishes quietly, almost ashamedly.

Loki blinks.

At once, a strong confusion takes hold of him, and he wonders at how Thor can be this way. How he can truly not _care _for what he knows Loki to be. When all their long lives, it had been mere sport to the Crown Prince, a kind of entertainment to go "giant hunting".

Oh, Loki remembers those days well. Those many, bloodied quests, when word would reach them of a filthy Frost Giant wandering the planes of Midgard, or terrorizing the outskirts of Vanaheim. Wherever the barbarous beasts roamed, and together… _together_, Thor and Loki, sons of Odin, would ride out to lay waste to the monsters, Thor dragging his beleaguered and resisting younger brother behind, promising glory and praise from their people for their bravery and heroics in the face of such vile threat.

And Loki would hold his tongue. Would restrain himself and keep from saying how it was Thor… _Thor _who would be hailed upon their return. Who would find cups of ail and mead held high in toast to him, and have songs sung about his strength and power and courage, while naught but disgusted sneers and disapproving glances would be given to the second Prince. The coward Prince. The shameful, weak, _argr _Prince, shadow son of Odin, staining the golden boy with his presence.

Loki, who would say nothing of this, and go always when Thor would continue to insist with dogged stubbornness, because Loki had idolized Thor then. Oh, how he had thought his elder brother the God of god's. And Loki wished only not to disappoint him then. Thought only to prove his worth, and show to Thor he wasn't so useless, wasn't the embarrassment the other god's claimed him to be.

He'd wished so very much.

Whatever hardships and horrors they'd faced on those journey's together, oh, but it had been worth it to Loki then, when at the end of it all, Thor would turn that great and bright smile upon him.

And Loki would hold it dear. Would treasure it and commit it to memory.

Those moments when Thor looked upon him with pride and approval, and sometimes Loki would want to cry, for how it lifted his heavy heart. Such a relief, it was a thing of overwhelming _pain_.

Sometimes, to no one he would ever admit, he did cry. When alone, and hidden from Heimdall's sight.

He would cry, for the knowledge that, if no one else did, at least his brother loved him.

Golden Thor.

His was the only love that mattered, Loki had thought.

For how was it possible, for him to be so vile as those others whispered he was, when he was loved by so perfect a being as was the god of Thunder.

How was it possible?

And to this… this alone, Loki would cling as proof of his own worth.

Through every whispered insult and sickened glare. Through every open hostility and show of hate he met.

He would tell himself they were wrong. Because Thor would never love a _monster_.

But a monster he was.

A monster he _is_.

And only were there the memories of Thor taking to the slaughter of the Frost Giants with such abandonment and glee, the memories of mighty Mjolnir coming down and splitting their skulls wide, Thor grinning proud as the wash of their blood would spray up and across his own, beautiful face, and he would laugh loud and far, and say "_Come brother! Is not this a fine day? When we can lay claim to the life of such a treacherous beast as a Frost Giant?!_", and Loki would smile thinly at him, and nod.

Those days, those memories, were what filled his mind when he saw his own arm held in the grip of a monster, and turn the same pale shade of disgusting, heinous blue.

He understood not now this change in Thor.

He would think it a deception, if he thought it at all possible Thor was capable of such a thing in his face.

But there was no lying to the god of Lies. And Thor most especially, with his open and clear expressions.

Thor was true in this.

He meant no offense.

He cared not of Loki's heritage.

He cared not.

And Loki could not understand _why_.

His hands curl tight in the material of the blanket for a moment, before finally, he says…

"My error then."

And he holds out his hand.

Thor stares blankly a moment.

"Hand it here, you dunderhead!" Loki snaps, growing impatient, gesturing towards the icepack.

And the thunderer moves to attention, handing it over finally, muttering an apology.

Loki falls back against the pillows, pressing the cold pack against his temple, and his eyes close at the relief it gives him.

He presses down the discomfort trying to work its way through him at Thor's tentative expression.

Minutes pass in silence, neither god saying anything.

Until finally Loki cracks an eye open, glaring at Thor a moment before sighing heavily, bringing the ice pack from his forehead.

"You needn't sit with me Thor." He says. "I am fine. You should go and attend your Lady."

Thor stares back at him a long moment, face lined in anxious worry, and Loki resists the urge to roll his eyes heavenward.

"I worry for you brother." He at last speaks. "You need rest."

"Of which I intend to have plenty." Loki says back quickly. "Your presence here distracts me from it, indeed."

Thor's gaze lowers, and he looks, suddenly, like naught more than a chastised little boy.

"I apologize." He says softly. "I will take my leave."

Wordlessly then, he stands, and still looking at the floor, he says…

"If you need anything Loki, I am here."

And then he turns, moving for the bedroom door.

Loki watches him, an abrupt frustration working through him, and a sense of somehow… wrong.

There is a kind of meekness in Thor now which sits uneasy in Loki's mind, and something of seeing the elder god so dejected eats away at him as Nithhogg chews at the roots of the World Tree.

"Thor…" he calls out suddenly, unthinkingly.

Thor stops, shoulders hunched. He doesn't turn.

Loki hesitates for the briefest of moments, before inwardly chastising himself for such ridiculous cowardice, forcing the words to his tongue.

"Thank you." He says. "… For taking care of me."

There is a moment of nothing.

And then Thor turns, looking at him, and the smile upon his face is like the sun.

There is a weight upon Loki's heart which lifts, unbidden, at the sight.

Thor nods.

"It is nothing." He says. "And I thank you, for all you have done, for Asgard, for me. For Jane. I have never thanked you as I should."

And then he hesitates, anxious, turning more fully to face Loki.

"… I love you, little brother." He says.

Loki's eyes widen, very slightly, before he turns his face away, his body rigid and still.

And he is quiet for a long while.

Long enough for Thor to realize he won't respond.

And so the thunderer gives one final nod. And then he leaves.

And he doesn't hear, as he pulls the door quietly shut behind him.

He doesn't hear the words, spoken so softly, they're nearly lost to the weight of the air.

Only Loki hears. Words spoken for another.

"I love you, big brother…

"I love you."

/

**AN: As always, a HUGE thank you to all my readers and reviewers! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please let me know what you think.**

**At this point, I think this might potentially turn into a quasi-romance between Loki and Jane. I know that's a turn off to some of you, but I ask those of you who don't like the idea to give it a chance anyway. I'll try and make it as plausible and realistic as possible, I swear. And there's something coming up in the story which will hopefully serve as the catalyst for it happening.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

"Can I…" Jane hesitates, glancing to where Darcy and Eric are playing a game of Scrabble at the other side of the room. "I mean, would it be alright if I came and… helped?" She finishes weakly, looking back to Thor, unsure.

Thor pauses as he stands from the couch, glancing down at her.

And he is surprised to see the earnestness of her expression. An almost eager hope in her eyes, waiting for his reply.

He smiles softly, wondering when it was that Loki had won her affection.

But, he supposes, he should not be so surprised.

Loki has ever been filled with great charm and charisma, when he has so chosen to be such.

Before all his pain and sadness took him under and refused him breath.

He should not be so surprised, but for how he sometimes lets himself forget who his brother used to be.

"If you wish." He nods at Jane. "But I must warn you, Loki can become… _defensive_… when placed in a compromised position as he now is. He may not take well to your offering of aid."

"I know." Jane answers, eyes sliding away, shrugging. Thor doesn't miss the slight smile which curls at the corners of her lips, as though recalling some fond memory. "But I just want to make sure he's… you know… okay." She glances back up at the thunder god, as though checking for his approval.

And Thor's smile broadens.

"Why, fair Lady Jane, I do believe you find yourself smitten with my younger brother!" He declares, suddenly realizing.

Immediately, Jane's cheeks flush bright red, her eyes widening.

"What!?" She exclaims. "No, I'm…" she fidgets nervously, glancing away, head shaking. "I'm not… I mean… that's crazy. That's…"

She pauses suddenly, heart hammering in her chest, face heating further as she thinks, remembers at once all the times Loki has smiled at her, or expressed to her some kind of gratitude, or paid her any sort of compliment, how each of those moments, there'd been an inexplicable and abrupt warmth to spread through her, an almost giddy, excited, even happy feeling at having pleased him in some way.

Like how she'd used to get when she'd had a crush on some boy at school.

Or when she'd first met Thor…

Only… only there'd been nothing of this when she'd first met Loki.

She'd been terrified of him. Hated him even, maybe.

How in hell was that supposed to develop into feelings of…

She feels the tips of her fingers go numb with dawning horror, swallowing thickly.

Oh Jesus, oh God, this can't be happening.

She forces her eyes back up to Thor, suddenly afraid of how he's going to react, and she tries to play it off by laughing stupidly, unconsciously pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"I'm not." She lies, she thinks smoothly. "And anyway, even if that were true, which it _isn't_, it's not like Loki would ever be interested in me that way either."

Thor's smile turns knowing, as Jane realizes she hasn't fooled him for a minute.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Jane." He says. "After all, I was most taken with you when first we met, if you recall."

On instinct, Jane argues the point.

"Oh, come on Thor!" She says. "That was totally different! You were literally Prince Charming, fallen out of the sky into my lap! And you _were _charming! You showed interest. Loki… Loki hasn't shown any kind of interest in me like that. He hasn't said anything."

"Ah, but you are forgetting the many ways in which my brother is wholly opposite me Jane." Thor counters easily. "But I have known and counted Loki my best friend for more than five thousand years, and I know when he has taken a fancy to someone."

Jane stares at him, bewildered and unsure of what to say.

Thor just keeps smiling.

"I am not so dull witted as my brother oft accuses me of being." He says simply. "You would know, Jane, for all his perceived surety and confidence, Loki has ever been shy. Never have I known him to directly court any Lady when his interest in them is true. But to seek out another's company, that is a certain sign he holds them in some affection. You understand, Loki is very usually withdrawn and hidden away. He prefers often to be alone, and will not search out another unless he admires them in some fashion. But he is very shy, believe me this, and never will he engage another so pointedly."

Thor stops a moment, smiling fondly.

"I remember, when Loki first came of age, and began to show an interest in the many young maidens of court, me and the Warriors Three would often tease him mercilessly for his fascination and admiration of the opposite sex, yet his timidity in approaching any of the girls who had caught his eye, and he would turn red in the face as any beat!"

Thor laughs heartily, grinning.

Jane's eyes slip away then, forcing a smile.

She knows Thor finds nothing wrong with the memory. That he and his friends had teased likely only in fun. But she also knows herself the humiliation of admitting to a crush and being made fun of for it.

Thor continues…

"Indeed, rare is the occasion Loki will make his feelings known. Rather, he tries the tact of standing within their company, waiting to see if they show in him the same affection. It is…"

And here Thor pauses, smile lessening visibly.

"It is his way of guarding himself, I suppose." He says finally, thoughtfully. "When you are easily hurt, as he was… is…" his voice trails off, and he glances away.

Jane looks back at him, silent a long moment, considering, feeling her heart sink at the realization.

"Loki… he…" she starts, then stops, unsure of voicing it. Unsure of _how_ to. "He's had bad experiences… with…?" She gestures vaguely, hoping Thor will understand.

And Thor does.

He nods.

"Aye." He says, frowning, eyes distant as though remembering. "When we were young, most especially, and Loki first began to develop into manhood, there were maidens I recall specifically whom he sought the favor of, who in turn were very… cruel to him. One such instance, the Lady… though I hesitate to refer to her as such now… very publicly humiliated my brother. Made a show of rebuffing his advances. He was shy and withdrawn before that incident, but afterwards…" again he pauses, and there is pain in his voice at the memory. "he only grew more so."

His great head shakes, glancing away from Jane finally.

"I never will forget," he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "The girl was the daughter of a nobleman, one of Father's oldest and wisest court advisors. Her name is Idra. Very beautiful, and was at the time well sought after by many a suitor.

"I remember Loki had shown a great interest in her for many a month, until the Three and myself began to encourage him to simply approach the maiden and express to her his intentions. We were, perhaps, more critical than we should have been. We resorted to accusing him of cowardice, asking how he could be so terrified of a simple maiden when he had accompanied us on many a quest and battled against many a monster. Even still, it took my brother nigh on a fortnight to gather the courage to do such."

Again, Thor pauses, frame visibly tense now, and Jane feels her own apprehension rising at what he's going to say.

"Loki is perhaps the most intelligent man I have ever known, you see." The thunder god finally starts, looking at her. "He is so very, very clever. But… his great mind often leads him to over thinking things… over strategizing. And here was one such instance.

He thought to approach Idra in the public setting of the court, if she were to reject his advance, it would lead her to doing so gently, and quietly, so as not to cause him any embarrassment. He was sure in his plan."

Once more, Thor shakes his head in regret.

"But Idra was known for her at times cold disposition. Though none of us understood the depth of her cruelty until that day.

"I recall how she laughed." Thor says quietly. "How all of them did…"

_Loki stands for a long while at the edges of those surrounding her, simply watching._

_She is popular among the courtiers, and attracts a great deal of attention. Many men and women alike seeking her ear, and her conversation._

_And so Loki waits, wishing not to interrupt._

_Occasionally, he glances back over to where Thor and the Three stand, and sees them smiling at him and encouraging him to make his move, and he smiles back softly, wanting to laugh at their enthusiasm and excitement._

_This time as he glances towards them though, he sees Fandral make an obscene gesture with his hand, and Loki quickly averts his eyes, his cheeks flushing warm._

_Suddenly his nerves coil tightly in the pit of his stomach, and he is abruptly unsure of his plan._

_Perhaps this is a foolish course, he thinks worriedly. Perhaps he should walk away before…_

_There is an explosion of laughter as a rush of young warriors move past him, and Loki glances up, startled a moment, seeing it the same group who had just minutes ago been monopolizing Idra's attentions._

_Quickly, his eyes move to her then, and a thrill of both fear and excitement crashes through him to see she is, at long last, alone and unoccupied._

_There is a faint smile touching the edges of her perfectly full lips._

_She seems in good spirits then, and Loki is certain now is as good a time as any he will receive to try his hand._

_He glances one last time towards his older brother, and sees Thor smiling warmly at him, nodding in approval._

_That's all the encouragement Loki needs, and he turns, pulling in a deep breath, letting it go slowly before willing himself to step forward, into the maiden's space._

_He expects her to notice him quickly._

_He is, after all, a Prince of Asgard, and all the lesser stationed men gained her eye quickly enough._

_But for nearly a full minute, Loki stands there, at her side, and she gives no acknowledgement at all of his presence. _

_For a horrifying moment, paralyzing fear rips through him, and he freezes, unsure of what to do._

_He swallows convulsively, and is about to turn on his heel and walk away, ready to forget the entire thing, when he glances back and catches sight of Thor and his friends again, watching him expectantly._

_They'll never let him hear the end of it if he abandons his intentions now, and he doesn't think he could handle that._

_Not now._

_And so he forces himself to turn back to Idra, swallowing again, struggling to push his trepidation down as he steps closer to her._

_Still, she doesn't look at him, and Loki's eyes flit to the floor a moment, before he looks back up and fights to keep his gaze on her._

_Gently, he clears his throat._

_And finally, she turns, eyes landing on him, cold and beautiful and unmoved._

_Loki smiles, the effort pale and weak, and for an long, few seconds, he flounders._

_Where usually words jump to his tongue and slip free easy as the flow of water over smoothed stone, now they jam and trap in his throat, and for a moment his mind goes horrifyingly blank, before it jerks abruptly into violent motion, and he sputters…_

"_Good… good morrow, m-my Lady." He says, bowing his head slightly in a show of respect, lifting his eyes back to her then._

_Her expression hasn't changed, and Loki realizes with a terrified start that he can't read it._

_Seconds pass, and when it becomes obvious she isn't going to speak, the second Prince forces more words to his lips._

"'_Tis… 'tis a fine morning." He says, unsure, hands folded tightly together at his front. "I thought perhaps… perhaps you would care to join me in a walk through the Queen's garde…"_

_His voice cuts short as she raises a hand, indicating for his silence._

_He can feel the tension winding tighter in his shoulders as her gaze rakes over him in clear assessment, heat rising to his cheeks. _

_There is a vague frown twisting her lips… almost a sneer. _

_That, Loki recognizes all too well, and inadvertently, his own eyes slip away from her, a spike of fear shooting through him._

"_They call you Silvertongue, do they not?" She finally speaks. And her voice is sweet, a beauty to match her face._

_Loki keeps his eyes down, says nothing._

_And he wants suddenly to run. To flee from here. From her…_

_He hears her scoff._

"'_Tis a wonder, then, given the leaden clumsiness of your words."_

_Loki's face flushes further, his shoulders hunching._

_A sickening knot forms in his stomach, a blind panic as he tries desperately to recover._

"_I… I only thought to…" he begins, hands wringing tightly, holding his posture painfully rigid to keep from shaking._

"_You only thought to, what?" Idra cuts him off. "To court me?" _

_Loki stays silent, humiliation working its way through him like a plague._

_Humiliation solidifying to dead weight when he hears her laugh, the sound as pretty as her face, grating against his ears like a blade against glass._

"_Oh, then does the second Prince possess as great a wit as he is said to?" She goes on, unheeding. "For surely, you jest! To think I would accept an advance from the likes of you! Have you…" she laughs between words. "have you glimpsed yourself in a looking glass of late?" She asks. _

_Loki, again, says nothing, eyes still locked to the floor. He can feel a tremor beginning to work through his frame, and he struggles against it._

"_You are _ugly_, Prince." She blurts suddenly, voice taking on a harshness to turn it cutting as a dagger, raised so that those around take notice, now stopping and staring. "You, with your black hair and pale skin and pointed features. Your sickly build. One should think you to make a better woman than a man, only you are too narrow and angular for even that, and would be just as ugly in such a form. Though, given the rumors of your interests in the dark arts and how such practice is said to pervert the mind and soul…" she smirks, her face twisting. "I'm sure you know already what hideousness you would take on in such a state."_

_The heat in Loki's face has intensified to the point now, it feels as if consumed in fire, his throat tightening so as to make drawing breath difficult, and no longer can he control the shaking in his limbs, the shuddering through him pronounced and clear._

_His eyes sting and burn, and rapidly he blinks, willing the wetness back, struggling desperately against it._

"_Now," Idra goes on, seemingly oblivious, voice louder still, and a small crowd has gathered now, looking without shame. "you can still make yourself of use to me, little Prince, if you would be so thoughtful as to send that handsome brother of yours my way. _Him_, I would gladly accept the courtship of."_

_And there is nothing Loki can do now to stop it, the tears pressing against the backs of his eyes pushing forward unrelentingly, gathering thick._

_He raises a hand as they spill, covering his face and turning away._

_There is laughter, a single snigger at first, and then joined, growing louder, more raucous, until the entire group around them show their open amusement._

_And Loki is moving away from them all, stepping quick as he can, towards the throne rooms wide doubled doors._

_It is all he can do not to break into a run, his hand still pressed to his eyes, covering his shame._

"_Loki!" He thinks he hears Thor call his name, thick with urgency at his side. But he pays it no heed. He stops for nothing, even as he feels the brush of wide fingers at his arm._

_He only pulls away, and keeps going, at last breaking into a run as he hits the hallways beyond._

"I knew Loki would most likely have hidden away in his chambers." Thor says, voice low and weary at the memory. "And so I followed him there. These were in the days before he had begun warding the entrance to his rooms against unwanted company. It was oft my habit then to simply burst in unannounced." He admits with a hint of embarrassment. "But even then, I knew better, and so when I reached his chambers, I knocked." His head shakes, frown heavy on his lips. "But no answer came, and so finally I let myself in, thinking perhaps Loki had gone instead to the library. But then, when I pushed the doors in, I saw him, and…"

He pauses, and his lips purse into a tighter expression of pain. He glances away from Jane, whose own eyes have filled with unshed tears, watching and listening to the god with rapt and sorrowful attention.

"Loki, I will never forget it, he was sat at his work desk, head in his arms. I remember I was able to see the way he trembled from where I stood across the room, and I knew he was crying. You must understand, my brother has never been one for grand shows of emotion. Not since he was a child. And so the sight of him thus was a terrible thing. I knew not then what Idra had spoken to him, though later he would confess it to me, but I understood the gravity of it for it reducing stoic Loki to tears."

Once more, he shakes his head ruefully.

"He tried to tell me to leave him be, tried to tell me he was well and wanted only to be left on his own. Normally I would have, but… I knew Loki was in trouble then, somehow. For all my moments of blind arrogance and ignorance towards my brother over the millennia, that one moment, I knew better. And I cannot forget, when I went to him and forced him into my arms… forced him into an embrace… how he fought me at first, struck my chest and my face and leveled at me all the insults his talented tongue could wield… but after… when finally he'd exhausted himself, the way he slumped against me and sobbed…"

Thor lifts a hand to his own eyes, wiping at them absently.

"I shall never forget it." He finally manages after a moment, voice strained.

He looks at Jane, who by now has let her own tears fall free.

"I never observed Loki approach any Lady through direct means again after that day. Indeed, Loki did not engage in any attempt to woo another for many, many years afterwards. He of course laid with his fair share of wenches and whores, but he shared no intimate romance well as I knew for the longest of times."

Jane feels herself stiffen slightly at Thor's casual use of terms considered derogatory towards women, forcing herself to remember the differences in hers and their culture before she lets the protest reach her lips.

Her offense at it hardly lasts a moment though, before realization strikes her, sharp and hard.

Loki's outburst in the dressing room at the department store… how angry he became at her for telling him he was handsome…

The bizarreness of his seeming belief in his own unattractiveness…

How many, she wonders then, grimly, how many spoke to Loki as that woman did? How often was he met with such cruel dismissals and proclamations of his own worthlessness?

Sadness turns abruptly to anger within her, hardening and dropping like a leaden weight in her chest, and it is all she can do not to explode in a rage then and there, and start screaming at the gross injustice of things.

For all the differences in their cultures and abilities, Jane thinks sourly, it seems some things between them remain.

Bullying as ever present among a supposedly shining, golden, perfect people as among the comparative squalor of the human race.

The irony, she thinks, would be amusing, if not for the devastation she's seen wrought by the truth of it. The weight of such abuse worn heavy in the eyes of a man who was Prince to those same unkind subjects.

Perhaps not so shining and perfect then, after all, if so many among them could treat the one individual whom should have commanded immediate respect and reverence with such overt cruelty.

Too much, she thinks, like so many people throughout history, under the rule of a monarchy, their venomous hatred spat out against their rulers with an almost pleasured glee, those moments ending, so often, in insatiable bloodlust, them becoming the very monsters they'd accused their sovereign's of being.

Her fists clench, and she takes several, deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

It won't do any of them any good if she looses her temper now.

"Forgive me," she hears Thor suddenly apologizing, and she looks up at him. "I did not mean to venture so into the past. Memory takes me often these days where my brother is concerned."

Jane shakes her head.

"No, it's okay." She says, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "It's… God, Thor… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for… for everything. I know he wouldn't want it, but… but God, I feel so sad for Loki sometimes. I just…"

Thor smiles down at her, the expression frail. And he nods.

"As do I, Jane." He offers softly. "There is the most heavy sadness in my heart for my little brother. He has suffered greatly. But you are correct in saying he would be unhappy to hear such, and so we must tread carefully with him. His pride is strong as my own, and it would suffer him insult if he thought he were being pitied."

Jane nods.

"I know." She says quietly, looking away, remembering how badly Loki had reacted when he'd thought she was doing just that.

"But I… I admire him… too." She goes on suddenly, slightly abashed at the admission. "I mean, he's so smart and…" her voice trails off, not even sure of what it is she's trying to say.

Thor only smiles knowingly.

"Indeed." He says, and she feels his heavy hand upon her shoulder.

A moment passes in silence between them.

And then the god says…

"Come, let us see to him."

He turns, striding down the hallway, towards the guest bedroom, Jane following silently behind.

**AN: Huge thanks to everyone again for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and let me know your thoughts.**

**Just a note, for those concerned about the potential romance between Loki and Jane, firstly, I don't really plan on having any sort of sex scenes in this story, or even really scenes of making out, and if a romance develops, it is going to be quite slow going and remain in the realm of friendship for a long time, especially with certain events coming up in the next few chapters. This by no means is going to turn in to some lovey dovey whirlwind romance story, and will remain generally focused on characterization and the connection between two very different beings. I plan mainly on this being more a case of Jane and Loki coming to trust and rely on one another in a certain way, and care for each other. At this point, Loki is interested in Jane, and yeah, he likes her, but why I don't think even he's sure at the moment. Anyway, again, hope you enjoy the chapter, and comment if you have a chance.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20:**

"Loki?" Thor calls softly as he pushes the door open, glancing round the room, concerned.

There'd been no answer when he'd knocked, and a sudden fear had gripped the thunderer, thinking irrationally that Loki had teleported away.

He feels Jane at his back, her hand on his arm, trying to see in past him.

"Is he…?" She starts to say.

And then there comes the faint sound of someone retching, and Thor's eyes snap towards another door across from where the bed lies, closed, a bright light showing through its bottom.

Thor steps into the room, Jane following behind, both striding immediately towards the bathroom.

"Loki?" Thor raps against the wooden barrier, waiting.

Jane stands anxiously at his side, her hands twisting together.

For a long moment, there comes no reply, no sound.

And then again there is the retching, the violent stir of expulsion.

"Loki, I am coming in." Thor calls, hand moving for the doors handle.

"No, Thor…" finally they hear Loki answer, his voice sounding weak and uneven. "I am… I am well."

Neither Thor nor Jane are convinced, but still, the thunderer hesitates a moment, unsure.

He glances to Jane.

"We should make sure he's alright." She says, voice just barely above a whisper.

Thor nods in acknowledgement, before returning his attention to the door, placing his hand upon the handle and turning it carefully.

Pushing it open, and both he and Jane are greeted by the sight of Loki, half slumped over the toilet bowel, one arm leaned atop the seat, holding himself up, the rest of him sagging precariously against the floor, on his knees.

He looks positively miserable, and as he glances towards the two of them, his eyes seem glazed and distant, the usual brightness of his irises dulled to a pale green.

His hair hangs in sweat soaked strands around his face, and his skin appears similarly slicked. A white dress shirt hangs off of him, only halfway done up from the bottom.

Jane thinks she's never seen him look so disheveled, even when she'd seen him in the heat of battle, or under imprisonment at the hands of SHIELD.

He frowns vaguely, glaring at them a moment.

"I thought I told you I was fine." He finally speaks, and even as the words leave his mouth, his expression shifts into uneasiness, a shudder running through his thin frame before he turns abruptly back to the bowel and proceeds to throw up into it.

It's nothing but white foam, though.

Jane frowns, concern gripping her hard as Thor steps without further hesitation towards his little brother.

"Loki…" he says softly, reaching him and bending down to one knee. "You are truly ill."

At last, Loki sags backwards, away from the toilet, falling against the wall and slipping down.

"However did you reach so astute an observation?" He replies, voice full with mockery, only his eyes are cast away, staring indistinctly at some spot on the floor.

Thor reaches out a hand, unthinking, pushing strands of Loki's wet hair back off his face.

Loki flinches away from the contact, turning further from the elder god.

"Don't…" he says weakly, arms wrapping round his torso, and Thor's hand drops away almost instantly.

A tense moment passes, and then Thor says…

"I have not seen you so ill since you were a child." His voice is grave with concern.

Loki says nothing to that, his eyes simply closing as he sags further.

"Here." Jane suddenly speaks up, and when Thor turns, he sees her holding out a glass of water towards him.

She must have stepped out and gotten it, he realizes. He hadn't even noticed.

"It'll help him." She presses. "He's probably dehydrated."

And Thor smiles faintly, nodding as he reaches out and takes it from her.

"Thank you." He says, turning back to his brother. "Here Loki, Jane has brought you some water to drink."

Loki doesn't move, eyes still closed, silent.

"Loki." Thor presses, a slight edge of panic in his voice.

And at this, finally, Loki's lids lift slowly open, and he regards his brother with tired eyes, before they move dazedly to the glass in his hands.

He stares unresponsive at it a long moment, and Thor holds it closer.

"It will make you feel better." He promises the trickster god.

Another, several seconds pass without Loki making a move, and then at last, he reaches up for it, thin fingers wrapping round the cool glass.

Neither Jane nor Thor miss the way his hands shake almost uncontrollably, the tremors working up through his arms as he attempts to bring the glass to his dry lips.

"Let me help you." Thor says, reaching out to steady the smaller god's hands, and Loki nearly snarls at him, shifting away, spilling half the glass over himself in the process.

"Leave me you dolt!" Loki snaps, voice thick with irritation.

Thor blinks, taken aback by the sudden viciousness in his brother's tone.

"He's just trying to help you Loki." Jane says softly.

"And did I ask for your aid?" Loki shoots back immediately, glaring at her only a moment before his eyes again slip to the floor. "I need not be handled as some helpless babe." He finishes, more quietly.

"… We're not trying to." Jane says after a beat, her voice hushed.

Loki only huffs, before he's again bringing the glass to his lips, hands still trembling.

He manages to get the rim in place, though, and begins drinking in great gulps, throat working convulsively. In seconds, the glass is drained, and Loki lets his head fall back against the wall with an audible thunk, eyes once more slipping closed.

There is a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips, a line creased between his brows.

"The taste if foul." He says after a moment, voice nearly too soft to hear.

A minute passes without anyone else speaking, and then suddenly, Loki is placing the glass down on the tiled floor and leaning forward, his unsteady hands reaching to the buttons on his shirt and beginning to do them up the rest of the way.

"Loki?" Thor begins, question evident in his tone.

"I have overstayed my welcome, I believe." The trickster god replies softly, still focusing on doing up his shirt, fingers shaking, slipping and clumsy in his effort.

He glances up at Jane then, a thin smile upon his lips.

"I thank you for your hospitality these last, several days, Jane Foster." He says. "You are indeed a Lady." He bows his head to her, respectfully. "But I have burdened you with my presence far too long as is, and wish to remove the weight of my being here from your shoulders."

With that, finally getting the last of his buttons closed, he begins trying to push himself to his feet.

He fails entirely, arms shaking as he collapses back onto his bottom, a heaved grunt slipping past his lips.

"Loki…" Thor begins, reaching for him, alarmed.

Jane is already moving, closing the small distance between them and bending down, reaching out without hesitation and pressing him back against the shoulder.

"Oh no." She says, her voice firm and determined. "No. You don't get to do that. You don't just show up out of the blue, ask to stay with me, and then decide you're going to jet because you think it's too much for me to handle now. Alright? I'll decide when I've had enough."

For a moment, an expression of actual surprise passes over Loki's features, staring at her wide eyed and bemused as she presses him back against the wall, before he smoothes his features into neutrality once more.

"And besides," Jane goes on, unfazed. "you're in no condition to be going anywhere. You're sick, and you need to rest. And I'm telling you that you're staying here until you're better."

If Loki's expression had gone startled for an instant, Thor's is flat out shocked, staring at the young physicist in a mixture of both awe and vague concern.

Very few people would ever have the courage to speak to Loki, son of Odin, in such a manner.

Thor had seen his fair share of unfortunate ignoramuses take such a tone with his little brother before, and never had it ended well for them.

Loki had not taken well to command since he was a child.

But whatever concern ate at Thor in that moment is quickly dissipated, as he hears suddenly the low chuckle of his brother's voice, quickly building into outright laughter.

And Thor looks back to him in equal astonishment, seeing Loki's head fall back against the wall, his chest heaving with the effort of his mirth, eyes closed as he laughs loudly and freely.

For several seconds, it lasts, until finally, the younger Prince tips his head back forward, and he looks at Jane, a wry smile pulling at his lips.

"You, Jane Foster," he begins, and Thor hears the pure delight in his brother's voice, and it pulls at something inside him, a powerful ache deep in his chest as he's reminded abruptly at the loss of that sound. "are ever an enigma."

Jane only smiles shyly, her bravado of moments before slipping away.

"Yeah, well…" she shrugs, seemingly embarrassed.

A moment passes, and Loki reaches out, taking her gently by the wrist.

His own palm is slightly warm, a shock, given how usually cool his skin is.

"Then I shall remain," he says softly. "if it is what you wish."

"Actually," Jane replies, and for a moment, both Thor and Loki regard her uncertainly, thinking she is going to tell the younger god he has to go. But then she smiles brightly, and she says…

"I was thinking, after you start to feel better, maybe… maybe you'd like to go for a walk with me, you know, around town."

She gestures vaguely.

And for the briefest instant, there is a flash of something unreadable in Loki's eyes.

Something, Jane thinks, between hurt and shock.

And for that moment, she fears suddenly she's miscalculated badly. That she's made some horrible mistake. Ruined everything.

Stupid, she thinks. That was _stupid_, trying to right some wrong so far in the past she has no right to its knowledge even.

No right to meddle in things so much bigger than her.

She's about to begin apologizing. About to tell him to forget she ever said anything and to please not be mad, panic bubbling up inside her almost unrelentingly.

But then, suddenly, he's smiling, the expression frail, but there is truth in it, his hand still on her wrist squeezing lightly, as though in reassurance.

His eyes gleam, brighter than they had been.

"I would like that." He says, voice nearly a whisper.

And Jane smiles back, placing her other hand over his, barely large enough to cover it by half.

Beside them, Thor looks on.

And the ache in his chest smooth's to something better.

Something warm, and pleasant, and kind.

Something, he thinks, like hope.

/

With Thor's assurance that SHIELD will no longer be an issue, he, Jane and Loki end up moving back to her apartment, Thor deciding to stay for a longer period, given Loki's apparent lack of disapproval concerning it, and the thunder god's own, remaining worry over his brother's health.

For nearly a week, Loki remains ill enough that he is confined mainly to bed, though his stubborn nature to accept such had led to more than one incident of him wandering from his room and out into the apartment proper, complaining of boredom and the irritating nagging of those charged with his care, self-imposed charge, Loki has been quick to point out each time.

But on the eighth day of his recovery, there seems, finally, to be some break. Loki's fever, kept at a manageable temperature due to Thor's and Jane's persisting attentions, has finally broken, and what was before the mischief god's sluggish energy and weakened movements is now closer to resembling how he usually conducts himself. All grace and precision and refinement. Though still he is far from completely healthy, still breaking out in occasional sweats and, at times, shaky limbed.

He stands before Jane and Thor now though, insisting he is well enough to leave the apartment, all but begging Jane to fulfill her offered walk with him.

"I am _bored_." He drawls, sounding every inch the privileged Prince that he is. "Another moment in these cramped quarters, and I fear I shall be driven entirely mad."

Nervously, Jane glances sidelong at Thor, sat on the couch beside her.

Thor's eyes are fixed on his younger brother, a frown of apparent disapproval turning his lips.

"Loki," he says, sternly. "you are still unwell. I would not have you wandering round so dangerous a realm as Midgard in your present condition alone."

Loki scoffs, the sound slipping into an amused chuckle.

"Thor, I am hardly some child that is in need of your approval. In any event, I have traversed worlds far more treacherous in nature than this quaint little hunk of rock, all by my lonesome, and I have survived such ordeals fully intact. You needn't concern yourself so. _What's more_…" he hurries as Thor's mouth falls open to protest, cutting the thunder god off. "I will not be alone."

He smiles then towards Jane, nodding at her.

"Jane will accompany me, as promised. Will you not, fair Lady?"

Jane hesitates a moment, looking back uncertainly, glancing at Thor.

"Well, I…" she starts, wavering, nervously tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"You would renege on your promise?" Loki cuts in, a note of clear unease in his voice.

Jane looks back to him, and she sees what almost looks like fear in his eyes, a flash of doubt and… pain.

She shakes her head quickly, cursing herself silently for her stupidity.

"No." She says. "No, Loki, I _want_ to go on a walk with you, I swear. It's just, I'm worried about…"

"Then accompany me." Loki interrupts, a note of seeming desperation in the speed of it.

A moment passes, Loki glancing away, eyes slipping to the floor.

"Please." He finally says, and his voice is hardly more than a whisper.

Jane exhales, her heart suddenly dropping.

Oh, Jesus…

She glances to Thor one more time, seeing the deep displeasure across his features, his great arms folded over his broad chest.

"If you insist on this brother, then I would accompany the two of you." He says at last.

At this, Loki looks up, his own lips twisted into a frown.

"But Thor," he says. "you aren't invited."

"Loki, I will _not_…" Thor begins, voice at once booming, suddenly surging to his feet, clear annoyance in the tension of his frame.

Loki's own frame stiffens, his lips peeling back in an obvious snarl.

Jane acts quickly then, jumping up from the couch and injecting herself between the two gods.

Distantly, she thinks she must be absolutely insane. Anyone else would be running from the room in fear of their life, and here she is, getting between two cosmic beings of infinite power, trying to break up an ensuing fight before it begins.

Yeah, she thinks, definitely bat shit crazy.

"Guys…" she says. "GUYS!" She presses the palms of her hands against each of their chests, and the absurdity of it doesn't escape her. Between them, they could probably lift an entire planet.

Yet somehow, her intervention seems to work, as both gods stop, staring down at her in bemusement.

For a moment, Jane finds herself speechless at her own success, and only stares dumbly up, gaze switching between them, trying to think of where to go from there.

After several, agonizing seconds, she at last recovers her voice.

"Listen," she begins. "how about we compromise. I'll go with Loki," she feels Thor shift, clearly unhappy, and she hurries along. "but we won't go far! Just… just around the block, and just for a little while. Okay?"

There is still a deep frown lining Thor's features, his eyes locked on his brother.

Loki only stares back, smiling brightly, clearly more pleased with the suggestion than the elder god.

For a long, few seconds, it seems there's going to be a stand off, Thor refusing to budge in his stance, and Jane feels a spike of worry.

But than the thunderer sighs, loudly, stepping back, the tension draining out of his frame.

"… I suppose." He finally grumbles, glancing away.

"Ah!" Loki exclaims triumphantly. "Then it is settled! Come Jane, let us make our trek round your building's block."

He holds an arm out to her, waiting patiently and with a broad smile for her to hook hers around.

Jane looks back at Thor and smiles sympathetically.

"We won't be gone long, I promise." She reassures.

"Aye," he nods, arms folding again. "you best not tarry long, or I shall be forced to venture out and retrieve you myself."

"Do, and I shall be forced to blast you past this realms atmosphere with an Eldritch beam the likes of which you have never had the displeasure of experiencing at my hand." Loki shoots back.

There is an awkward silence following the threat, Thor staring at Loki with an expression of pure horror, Jane looking back and forth between them, confused.

And then Loki laughs, the sound high and almost feral.

"I jest brother!" He says, before again, he's holding out his arm. "Now, come Jane. The world awaits!"

This time, she takes it, glancing one last time back at Thor before Loki is sweeping her away.

/

They're outside, walking at an easy and leisurely pace for perhaps half an hour, Jane checking her cell phone almost obsessively every few minutes to see how long they've been gone for, Loki complaining lightly each time she does so, wondering aloud how they are supposed to enjoy their time out when she is concerning herself so entirely with her promise to Thor, instead of to him.

That, eventually, gets Jane to put her phone away, smiling tightly up at the mischief god, apologizing, and Loki simply smiles back, waving the apology off and telling her it is well, then inquiring though as to how much nicer it is, when she allows herself to enjoy it.

She has to agree.

It is in the middle of Loki making a comment about the mundane nature of Midgardian architecture when it happens.

Their only warning is a high pitched whir overhead, both of them glancing up simultaneously.

And Jane has no time for anything to escape her lips but a sharp gasp, her eyes widening in horror as a blast of bright, burning white energy comes speeding down at them. And suddenly Loki's arm is around her, pulling her so hard and fast against him, it knocks the air straight out of her lungs, and he's bending his body over her, crouching down across her and thrusting his arm upwards.

The beam of energy hits, and Jane would scream, if she had the breath to do so, as there is a loud POP and the energy scatters across overtop them, raining down like liquid drops along a barrier of green and gold reflecting light.

Loki's magic, Jane realizes distantly.

Oh God, he just…

Loki still has hold of her, still pressing her protectively against him, when there is a loud clang, as of something heavy and metal slamming down into the concrete sidewalk before them, and Jane has only a moment to glance up, her jaw falling open in another, soundless scream at what she sees before Loki is shoving her behind him, his ridiculously strong fingers gripped round her arm still, refusing to let go, hard enough to bruise.

"L… L-L… Loki…" she manages to stutter out, her voice reedy and weak as she struggles to suck air back into her lungs.

"Stay behind me Jane." She hears him order, tone as deadly serious as she's ever heard it.

"I-i… it's a D… Do… Doom…" she gasps, trying again for air. "a Doom bot…"

If Loki hears her, he gives no indication, never taking his eyes from the contraption which stands before them.

Easily it matches the mischief god in height, green cloak billowing round it as it stands motionless and intimidating.

"Loki of Asgard." It suddenly speaks in a deep, accented voice, only slightly electronic sounding through its filtration system.

Loki's eyes narrow suspiciously, and Jane feels his fingers tighten round her arm even more.

"Your presence is requested by Doom. You are to be escorted to the Nation of Latveria."

Loki is unimpressed.

"I think not." He replies coolly. "Jane," he begins, still keeping his eyes on the machine. "I want you to go. Run back quickly as you can to your dwelling."

"Loki, no!" Jane begins to protest. "You don't understand, Doom is… he's…"

"You may come willingly or by force." The Doom bot continues, ignoring the physicist, addressing the god still. "The choice is your own."

"Then I suppose you will have to attempt force." Loki answers without missing a beat.

What happens next is too quick for Jane to make sense of.

The Doom bot lunges, and Loki releases her, shoving her back.

She hears his voice rise, yelling for her to run, and in the next instant, there is the sound of creaking, twisting metal, and Jane realizes she's on the ground, staring up, watching in wide eyed terror as Loki and the Doom bot engage.

Loki has hold of its arms, his long fingers pressing in and crushing the metal under the immense pressure of them. But his arms shake, and it becomes clear at once there is a standstill, neither Loki nor the machine giving or able to gain any ground.

And Jane suddenly remembers, though he's better than he had been, not even a week prior, Loki had been unable to stand for long under his own strength even. And still, he isn't anywhere close to well. Still he finds himself hit with dizzy spells and nausea. Still his limbs tremble from weakness and he needs to abruptly sit down.

Still, his magic is dangerously depleted…

It is as the thought strikes her, she sees plates sliding back along the Doom bots arms and legs, along its torso, watching in horror as from them emerge thick, coiled, metal tentacles of some kind.

For a moment, Jane's voice catches in her throat, unable to expel a sound, only able to stare as the tentacles begin wrapping, tight and unrelenting round Loki's arms, and then his legs, others still winding round his thin waist. Squeezing and twisting. And at once, there is some sort of electrical surge through them, lighting them up florescent blue, and Loki _screams_, his face screwing in agony, and then he is dropping, one knee hitting the pavement hard, his hands still gripping with vicious pressure to the robots arms.

More tentacles emerge, reaching and winding, now round the god's neck, round his wrists and chest, squeezing tighter and tighter, that blinding blue light still pulsing hot across them.

And at last, Jane's voice comes to her, and she screams his name, loud and broken and so, so afraid.

"LOKI!"

Loki's eyes are clamped shut, his teeth bared and ground together.

And slowly then, his lids lift, and beyond them, there no longer comes any visible iris, or pupil, or whites. They are aglow with firey, green light, violent and shimmering, and his mouth drops open one last time, his voice ragged and rough as he screams…

"JANE, GO… _NOW_!"

And there is a surge of the same, green glow up his arms, through his hands and to the tips of his fingers, draining with speed and fury into the Doom bots insides.

And for an instant, for one, happy instant, Jane sees the coils round Loki loosen, the Doom bot begin to stutter and jerk unnaturally. Sparks emit from its joints, and Jane thinks… she thinks Loki has it beat. She thinks it's going to be okay.

It's going to be okay.

It _has_ to be.

But then there is horror, her eyes disbelieving as she sees dripping from the mischief god's nostrils, deep, almost black red.

And she realizes…

Blood.

Blood…

Oh, God…

The green brightness of his magic falters, wavering in and out like a flickering light, and then it cuts abruptly, gone.

Loki sags forward, head slumping in total exhaustion, and the coils are tightening again, like some hideous snake, winding round and round.

Loki's grip on the Doom bots arms at last dissolves, his fingers slackening, and the tentacles are turning him, drawing him closer, back against the machines body, encompassing him whole.

There's so many of them.

Oh God, how can there be so _many_!?

Wrapping and winding, pulling him away. Wrapping over his face. Wrapping him like a spider would its prey. As in a cocoon. Until there is no part of him left to see.

Only thick metal coils.

It happens, it seems, in a matter of seconds.

And then the machine is lifting into the air, rocketing high, its prize held fast and unmoving.

There is someone screaming, Jane realizes as she watches the thing vanish from her sight, until it is less than a speck of black against the blue, blue sky.

Someone is screaming.

High and ruined and terrified.

Unceasing.

She doesn't understand until the police show up that it's her.

It's her that's screaming.


End file.
